Over the Edge!
by Mahala
Summary: Jo shook her head. "I don't know Don. What does a Miami gun runner, an ex-boxer, a thirteen-year-old runaway and Mac Taylor have in common?" Mac centric story (of course!). All team members appear. Action, adventure, a bit of H/C, a few fluffy JAC moments, hopefully a little humour ... the usual!
1. Chapter 1- Shopping Trip

**A/N : First of all my sincerest apologies to all those of you who started reading this story back in June before I got hit by computer troubles and real life issues which kept me off-line for much of the summer. I promise it will be finished this time. This story is set somewhere in an S7/S8 AU universe where Jo has been with the crime lab for some months, Christine doesn't exist (to keep my friend Kay happy) and Mac is keeping fit. ;-) **

**Disclaimer : I do not own anything! Pity really!**

**Chapter 1 – Shopping trip**

Mac Taylor looked up as the elevator jerked to a stop and the doors swished open. His face broke into a shy smile. "Hey there Stacy. How are you today?" The dark-eyed teenager looked at him in open-mouthed astonishment. Mac shuffled nervously, a little taken-aback at her open appraisal. "Er … there a problem?"

"No … er … I mean .. hello Detective Taylor … gosh … " The elevator doors tried to close but Mac swiftly put out a hand to stop them. Stacy stepped in with a smile and turned to face the doors as Mac let go. "Thanks." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "I'm sorry ..." She blushed prettily. "I didn't mean to stare but … it's just that I didn't you wore normal clothes."

Mac laughed wryly and looked down at his black jeans, running shoes and long-sleeved dove grey tee-shirt hitched up to his elbows. "Is it that shocking?"

Stacy laughed nervously, a tinkling sound that made Mac smile. It was the first time he'd heard her laugh since she'd moved in almost six months previously. In that time he'd seen her blossom from a pale-faced, traumatized young girl into a relaxed, happy teenager and he knew that the transformation was down to one person. Alice. "No. It's just that … well Alice said you're always working and I've only ever seen you wear a suit."

Mac nodded thoughtfully. "True but as it happens today is my day off and I thought a suit was a little formal for getting groceries."

"Whoa! You get to have a day off?" Stacy looked at him in amazement. "I thought you had to work like ALL of the time. Alice says you even work Sundays and you NEVER take vacation. Alice says that it isn't healthy." Mac chuckled. He could just imagine Stacy's foster mother saying that. Alice Graham was a formidable woman with strong maternal instincts and that no-nonsense attitude that made her the perfect foster mom. She was also the nosiest person in Mac's complex. "Alice says you should get married again." Mac rolled his eyes. He could imagine Alice saying that too. "It's not good to be alone," she added in a quiet voice. Stacy looked up at him with her big dark eyes and a sincere expression. Mac could see from the sadness in her eyes that she was speaking from experience. At that moment she looked older than her thirteen years suggested. He gave her another shy smile and dipped his head in acknowledgement knowing how she felt.

Mac was grateful that they had reached the lobby. He held open the doors for Stacy and followed her out through the front door and onto the side-walk. Expecting her to head off, he was surprised to find her falling into step with him.

"Detective Taylor, can I ask you a question?" Stacy asked in a low voice, her face slightly worried.

Mac felt his stomach flip dreading what kind of question a thirteen year old girl would want to ask him. "Sure," he answered with mock confidence. "And I think you know me well enough to call me Mac now."

Stacy smiled clearly pleased. "Oh sure Mac!" She dug a hand in the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a paper. "What exactly are an...cho...vies?"

Mac gave a silent sigh of relief grateful that the question was nothing more complex. "Er … they're small salty fish."

"Oh! Do I get them at the seafood counter?"

"No you get them canned or as paste. What are they for?"

Stacy's face lit up. "Pizza night. Michael is coming home for the weekend. He's just got a job as a ..." She hesitated. "...a trainee ac...chu...ary?" She looked at Mac uncertainly.

"An actuary. Wow! That's great!" Mac had met Michael, the oldest of Alice's foster children when he had first moved into the complex after Peyton had left. His stomach did another little flip as he thought of her but he pushed the feeling away. Michael was a shy kid but smart with a real head for figures. Alice had recognized that too and had encouraged him all the way and now he was going to be an actuary. Mac couldn't help smiling.

"Yeah. Alice says he's done real well so we're celebrating. Simone and Oscar are coming too. I'm getting the ingredients. See?" She showed him the list that included mozzarella, tomatoes, pepperoni, ham and the infamous anchovies. "It's the first time I've been allowed to go to the store by myself," she added proudly. "I usually only go with Alice or Hank but he's working today. What are you getting?" She looked at him curiously. "Don't you have a list?"

For a moment Mac felt at a loss. He wasn't used to being interrogated by teenage girls. "Er, no. It's in my head. I just need something for dinner tonight."

"Oh, you could come to pizza night. Alice won't mind. The more the merrier she says."

Mac could imagine Alice saying that too but he shook his head. "Thank you but I can't. I'm expecting a friend for dinner."

Stacy's eyes widened and she leaned towards him conspiratorially. "Oh is it your girlfriend?" she asked excitedly. Mac didn't answer but for some strange reason he found himself blushing. "Are you cooking her something nice? What are you having for dessert? Oh are you going to have wine?"

Mac sighed as they turned the corner. This was clearly going to be a long shopping trip.

.

Mac handed over his money as the assistant packed his groceries into a bag. He smiled at her as she handed him the bag. "Have a nice day Detective." He thanked her and headed for the door.

"Are you finished? I found everything Alice put on the list." Stacy suddenly materialized at his side. Mac sighed. _And Adam said he had Ninja skills!_

"Not quite. I … er … need to pick up my dry cleaning and go to the florists before I go home." Mac turned as though to head in the opposite direction but before he could say goodbye Stacy jumped right in.

"Ooo. Can I come? I love flowers. Especially roses and baby's breathe. What are you going to get?"

Mac looked a little nonplussed. He hadn't really thought about it. "Well … er … I'm not sure. I guess I'll decide when I get there."

Stacy's face lit up. "Oh I can help. I love going to Flora's. Alice and Hank let me get flowers sometimes and arrange them at home. I'm going to be a florist when I finish school." Stacy tipped her head to one side as a sudden thought struck her. "Do you have to be good at math to be a florist?" She didn't wait for an answer for which Mac was grateful as he wasn't sure if math was a prerequisite for flower-arranging. "I not very good at math. Did you always want to be a policeman?"

Mac sighed. At least that was a question he could answer. "No. I always wanted to be a Marine. I joined up the day I left school."

"You were a soldier?" Stacy looked at him with big eyes. "Did you fight in a war?" Mac nodded. "Did you get hurt?" He nodded again. Stacy's eyes grew to the size of saucers. They turned the corner and headed down the side-street. "Dwayne joined the Navy. He's one of Alice's children too. I've never met him but she's got a picture of him in his uniform on The Wall," Stacy finished reverently. Mac smiled as he knew what wall she was referring to. Alice and Hank had painted one wall of their kitchen a dark blue and there was a framed photograph of every child that had ever stayed with them. "He looks really handsome in his uniform. Have you got a picture in uniform?"

Mac paused outside the dry cleaners. "Stacy shouldn't you be getting back? Won't Alice be worried?"

"It's okay. I'll text her." Stacy whipped out a pink cell phone and started tapping away with one thumb. Mac sighed and turned to go into the dry cleaners. A couple of minutes later he came out with his suits dangling over his shoulder hooked by one finger, his bag of groceries firmed tucked in the crook of his left arm. He wondered how he was going to carry flowers too. Stacy smiled and fell into step beside him as they headed to the florists. They hadn't gone more than two dozen paces when a heavy-set man with short cropped hair, a goatee and dark glasses stepped out from the alley onto the side-walk in front of them. In his hands was a newspaper folded in two.

"Don't say a word. No sudden moves," he growled. He waved the newspaper at them and tipped his head to indicate that they should head down the alley. Stacy squealed with fright as she saw the barrel of a gun poking out from under the newspaper. "Into the alley. Move." He waved the gun and looked around nervously.

"Now just hold on ..." Mac began.

"Do as he says or I'll blow a hole in your back!" The hairs on the back of Mac's neck stood on end as a second gun was jabbed hard into his spine. Slowly they stepped into the entrance of the alley. Mac noted a black van with the back doors open. The inside was dark and empty like a gaping hole ready to swallow it's victims. "Keep moving." The gun jabbed into his back once more forcing him forward. He felt rather than saw Stacy edge closer to him. He could hear her rapid panicked breathing. As they neared the van Mac felt the suits being pulled from his fingers. He turned to look at the man behind him. If Mac had thought that the first-guy was heavy-set, this guy was something else entirely. He wasn't tall but he was one solid block of muscle with large jowls and small dark eyes. His hair was cropped tight and one side of his face was disfigured as though his cheekbone had been broken and not reset properly. His entire body said street-brawler. Jowls glared at him and threw the dry-cleaning onto a pile of boxes next to a dumpster. He gestured towards the grocery bag in Mac's hands. "Dump it." Mac hesitated. "Do it," he ordered holding his gun a few inches from Mac's face.

Mac tossed the bag on top of the dry-cleaning causing the boxes to topple as he stared coldly at Jowls and the unwavering Desert Eagle in his hand. If he had been alone he might have risked an attempt to disarm him but as it was Mac knew he didn't stand a chance though perhaps he could get Stacy out of harm's way. "Leave the girl out of this..." Jowls sneered and with surprising speed he twisted his wrist and lashed out with the butt of the gun, landing a back-hander to Mac's right cheek. Mac's head snapped to one side and he flew backwards landing heavily by the van doors.

Stacy screamed and dropped her bag of groceries. Jowls grabbed her by the arm growling at her to shut up and pushed her into the van.

"Hey, what's going on?" Both men spun round to see a man in a dark grey uniform staring at them from the entrance to the alley. His hand was moving towards the holster on his hip. Without hesitation, Jowls lifted the Desert Eagle and took aim. The boom from the massive hand-gun reverberated around the alley making it sound as though they were in the middle of a war zone. Mac shook his head and dragged himself to his feet levering himself up against the edge of the van, his only thought to protect Stacy. As his vision cleared he found himself staring once more down the long silver barrel of the Desert Eagle.

Jowls glared at him. "Empty your pockets. Phone, wallet, watch." He gestured to his partner who hesitated slightly before discarding the paper, jamming the gun in his belt and holding out a small black drawstring bag. Jowls pulled the cell phone from Stacy's hand and threw it in the bag. Mac had no choice but to remove his phone and wallet and put them in the bag. "Now, get your ass in that van. We're going on a little road trip."


	2. Chapter 2 - Chicken Alfredo

**Chapter 2 – Chicken Alfredo**

Don Flack looked up from his notebook and broke into a grin as Jo ducked under the crime scene tape, thanked the officer on duty and walked towards them. She looked radiant. "Morning Jo."

"Morning Don, what have you got for me?"

The latest addition to the crime lab had a voice that had a lovely lilting quality to it and her smile made his day. Don missed Stella but he had to admit that Jo Danville was a breathe of fresh air and he had noticed that he wasn't the only one who thought so. Mac Taylor may have the perfect poker face but his eyes were a dead give-away and he certainly couldn't keep them off his new colleague. Don suppressed a smirk contemplating the possibilities as he watched Jo. She gazed down at the fair-haired young man laid on the side-walk, his arms flung out to his sides and his chest caked in blood. A look of sorrow passed over her features. That was always something that impressed Don, how she always took a moment to look at their victim, not as a victim but as a person. He gave her a moment. "That looks like a big calibre," she commented finally.

Sheldon Hawkes looked up at her from his position kneeling at the far side of the body. "Yup. At least a 44. Punched straight through his sternum. Helluva mess. Sid's going to have fun getting the fragments from that bullet. I wouldn't hold out for much from ballistics." His face was grim. Jo twisted round and looked at the alley, the most obvious location for the shooter to have been standing. The alley was deserted and, oddly for New York, relatively unencumbered from human detritus. A large green dumpster stood to one side next to a jumble of empty cardboard boxes. The only untidiness was an abandoned bag of groceries. Jo arched an eyebrow at the incongruity.

"Shot came from the alley. No witnesses." Don pointed to the dry cleaners. "Owner said he heard the shot and looked out but there was no one in sight. Just our vic lying here. He panicked and went straight back in and called 911. He's still refusing to come out ..." Don rolled his eyes. "... even though I told him the shooter was long gone."

"Do we have an ID on our vic?"

"Yeah." Sheldon lifted a wallet and an ID card in a clear plastic bag. "Justin Myers. 33. Works as a night security guard at Walsh and Bennett."

Don pointed his pen down the street. "Their offices are just around the corner. Looks like he was just coming off his shift." Jo nodded. "There's something you need to see." Don nodded towards the alley.

Sheldon rose and walked with them. They paused fifteen feet into the alley just next to the dumpster and the bag of groceries strewn across the tarmac. Several tomatoes were scattered around, a squashed one lay next to a tin of anchovies, a packet of mozzarella and some pepperoni. Jo pulled on a glove and picked up a slip of paper. "A shopping list. Neat writing. Hello Kitty paper. Looks like a child's. They've spelt pepperoni wrong." She looked at the groceries and then back at the guard. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked, a slightly sick feeling entering her stomach.

Sheldon nodded. "Our vic was walking past, saw something he shouldn't …?"

Don huffed. "... and gets shot for his trouble." Don turned to where their security guard was lying. "Kid with the groceries was here. Our vic turns up. Maybe shouts a challenge. Shooter turns and ..." He raised his hand and mimicked firing a shot. Sheldon pulled out a flash-light and started examining the ground sweeping the light back and forth.

"It's hard to tell whether they left on foot or in a vehicle. No obvious sign of tire marks. Might be able to pick up latent treads."

Jo nodded and looked around. "Other than the groceries, there doesn't look to be any signs of a struggle." She stepped over to the dumpster and peered inside wrinkling her nose at the foetid smell. There were just a few black rubbish sacks. She dropped the lid and pulled at one of the boxes piled up next to it. "Wait, there's another grocery bag back here." She pushed the box to one side as she retrieved the bag. Don appeared by her side holding it for her as she explored the contents. "Looks fresh … Oh no …" she whispered, the colour draining from her face.

"Jo?" Don looked at her oddly not understanding why the contents of the bag which contained cream cheese, pasta, zucchini, broccoli, bell peppers and chicken should shock her so. "What is it?"

"Chicken Alfredo"

"Huh?" Sheldon stepped up to look into the bag also surprised by her reaction.

"He said it was his speciality."

"Jo?" Don repeated but she just stared at the bag with wide eyes. He began to get a bad feeling. "Jo!" He was shocked when she looked up at him with fear in her eyes.

"Mac. He said he was going to make me Chicken Alfredo. For dinner tonight," she whispered.

Neither man was able to say anything. They looked at the bag. They looked at Jo. "It's probably just a coincidence," muttered Sheldon not wanting to believe what Jo and his eyes were telling him. Don pulled out his phone and hit a key. He listened for a moment and then grimaced.

"Mac call me as soon as you get this." He pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it as though it had made a mistake. "It's going to voice-mail," he said uselessly. He opened his mouth to speak, to say that this was just a coincidence like Sheldon had said but the words wouldn't come. His mind was working overtime. Mac lived three blocks away. He looked at the grocery bag with it's logo. Mac would have shopped there. It was on the next block. Sheldon pulled his eyes away from the groceries and peered at the pile of boxes. Leaning over he stuck in an arm and pulled out what appeared to be two dark suits in plastic wrapping. A muscle twitched in his jaw as he lifted them for Jo and Don to see. There was no doubt. They all recognized the suits. Don stared at them shaking his head. Mac used that cleaners. Don knew that for a fact. He had often dropped Mac off at the store. "What the hell is going on?"

Before anyone could say anything a commotion back on the street attracted their attention. A uniformed officer was trying to restrain a large woman with a mop of curly dark blond hair tied back in a scarf from ducking under the crime scene tape. She was waving her arms and even from that distance they could hear the anguish in her voice. They caught the words "girl … missing … called" Automatically they turned and headed towards the woman.

Don's long legs took him faster than Jo and Sheldon who paused to put down the grocery bag and the dry-cleaning. "Brent, it's okay." Don's voice was hard as he addressed the officer. "Ma'am, I'm Detective Flack, can I help you?"

The woman looked panicked. "Please, you have to help me. My little girl ... my foster daughter … Stacy. She's missing. She went out to get groceries and she ran into my neighbour. They were going to Flora's the florists on the corner but she still hasn't returned and she's not answering her phone." She looked past Don at the man lying on the street, her eyes wide with fear and then at Jo and Sheldon and then at the tomatoes lying in the street. She looked pleadingly at Don.

Don swallowed and cleared his throat trying to quell the panic. "Ma'am, what is the name of the neighbour you said Stacy ran into?"

"Mac. Mac Taylor. He's a policeman too. Do you know him?"

Don's stomach did a somersault as he heard Jo's gasp behind him. He nodded to Brent to let her through. The young officer lifted the tape and Don steered her away from the body and the crowd that was gathering to see what was going on. Brent did his best to move them on. "What's your name?"

"Alice Graham. What's going on? Do you know where Stacy is? They're all right aren't they?" Alice looked around at the three of the them.

"Alice this is Jo Danville and Sheldon Hawkes from the crime lab. They work with Mac. Can you tell us exactly what happened this morning?" Don saw her hesitate. "It's really important."

"We're having pizza night and Stacy went to get groceries ..."

"Tomatoes, anchovies, pepperoni, mozzarella?" asked Sheldon.

"Yes, how do you ..." Alice broke off as she looked into the alley. "That's her bag isn't it?" Jo nodded and held up the list. Alice stifled a cry and placed a hand over her mouth as she saw the paper with it's Hello Kitty logo. "I shouldn't have let her go on her own but she's thirteen and she needed to be trusted … it was only two blocks ... I shouldn't have let her go." Alice's voice trembled and she took a deep breath unable to continue.

Jo placed a hand on her arm and did her best to look reassuring despite feeling exactly the opposite. "I understand. I have a daughter of a similar age too."

Alice smiled gratefully. "She sent me a text to say she'd met Mac – he lives on the floor above us – and that she was going to Flora's to help him choose flowers for his girlfriend." Don and Sheldon's eyebrows rose at this and slowly they turned to look at Jo who was doing all she could to avoid looking at them. However, this was hardly the time or the place for that particular question so they turned back to Alice as she continued. "She really loves flowers. She wants to be a florist when she leaves school. At first I didn't worry as she was with Mac. I thought perhaps she had gone to arrange them for him but I called to see what was taking so long and she didn't answer so I called at Mac's but there was no answer there either. So I came down to see if I could find her. It's been almost an hour " She looked at all three, tears glistening in her eyes. "Please tell me what's happened. They're not ..."

"No." Jo said firmly refusing to allow anyone to go there. "No. We don't know where they are. Do you recognize this man?" Jo pointed to their security guard. Alice stepped over to look nervously down at him but shook her head. "His name is Justin Myers," added Jo to see if the name meant anything. She shook her head again. There was no flicker of recognition.

"Mrs Graham?" began Sheldon.

Alice turned away from the body and brushed at her eyes, clearly trying to compose herself "Alice, please."

Sheldon smiled. "Alice, could you give me Stacy's phone number. I'm going to get a colleague of ours to trace their phones."

Alice nodded and handed over her cell phone. Sheldon could see that her number was already on screen ready to be called at the touch of a button. Jo and Don leaned over to see a photograph of a pretty girl with a thin, pale face, and long, straight, dark brown hair. The dark eyes that stared out at them seemed sadder and wiser than those of a girl barely into her teens but she had a tiny ghost of a smile on her lips that was oddly reminiscent of Mac's. "That was taken when she came to us a few months ago. She's put on a little more weight since then." She could hold it back no longer. Alice Graham burst into tears.

"We're going to do everything we can to find Stacy." Jo smiled at Alice putting her arm around her.

Alice nodded trying hard to hold back her tears. "I know. I know you are." She looked at their faces. She could tell they were trying to hide their concern. "It will be all right. Mac will look after her. He's a good man." No one was sure who she was trying to convince more, herself or them.


	3. Chapter 3 - Black and White

**Chapter 3 – Black and White**

He had tried to follow the turns and stops but their abductors knew exactly what they were doing and it hadn't taken long before he was forced to admit he had no idea where they were headed. As soon as the van doors had slammed closed, he had heard the sound of a lock being turned and then a a latch being closed and a padlock being slipped through the loops. He had tested the doors but to no avail. They wouldn't budge.

The interior of the van was black. Pitch black. He explored the sides and roof and floor with his fingertips feeling for the slightest opening. There were none. No windows, no light and no vents other than two small metal grates that allowed a sluggish flow of air from the cab into the back of the van. The interior smelt of new carpet and glue. The result was nauseating. Every inch of the sides and floor had been covered in a short-weave black carpet that had been riveted and glued firmly in place. He felt padding beneath that, insulating them from the sounds outside the van and isolating them from the outside.

This told Mac two things. One that the work on the inside of the van was a custom job and would have taken time and money so they were in for a long ride. No one would go to this much trouble just to take him to an abandoned warehouse five minutes away. Two, that this had been carefully planned. They had to have been watching him. He had no routine other than going to the lab, shopping at the same grocery store and using the same dry cleaner so that's why they had picked that spot and bided their time.

The van turned a sharp corner throwing them to one side. Mac heard Stacy cry out. He gave up his search and settled himself towards the rear of the van bracing himself against the partition between the rear and the cab. Although he couldn't see her he knew Stacy was huddled in the corner and that she was scared. She hadn't said a word since the engine had started and the van had turned out of the alley.

"Stacy?" He felt her move beside him. "Are you okay?" Her answer was so faint he could barely hear it against the hum of the engine beneath them. Mac rubbed a hand down his face. "Stacy, I'm sorry." He heard a sniff and felt her arm brush against his. She was wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"What for?" Her voice was quiet and timid, the chatty girl from earlier having disappeared.

Mac took a deep breath. "For getting you involved in this," he confessed. He felt sick to his stomach that an innocent girl had got caught up his world. He didn't know it but Stacy nodded slowly beside him in the darkness of the van.

"It's okay." She sniffed. "What do you think they want?"

There was the million dollar question. What did they want? There was any number of criminals that he had put away who would jump at the chance to get a little revenge. Or perhaps they wanted him as a bargaining chip to secure the release of a colleague or family member. Or get evidence quashed. A thousand and one possibilities rushed through his head. He thought about the two men. Hard men. Cold men. He didn't recognise either of them. He thought about the abduction itself. Quick. Methodical. Well planned. Professional. But to what purpose? He sighed opting for the truth. "I don't know."

They sat for a few more minutes in silence. The van slowed, came to a stop, starting and stopping several times before slowly speeding up and after one or two slight turns, settling to a steady speed. Although he could hear very little of what was happening around them he could hear and feel the changes in the engine. Mac knew that they had just left Manhattan. The pattern of starting and stopping corresponded to traffic filtering to cross a bridge or use a tunnel. They were leaving the city.

Eventually they settled into a cruising speed. Not fast. Not slow. No more twists and turns. They were on a highway. They had taken his watch and his phone. No light, no idea of time but it was hot and getting hotter. The sun would be getting high in the sly. Mac reckoned they had been going about an hour but he had no idea in which direction, nor where they were headed nor why.

At least he could console himself with one thought. They had made a mistake by killing that young man. He felt a moment of sadness as he wondered who the young man had been. He vaguely recalled a grey uniform and a holster. Security guard possibly. Someone would have found the body by now. Jo was on call. He imagined her at the scene with Don, probably Sheldon too. He wondered how quickly they would work out that he and Stacy were involved. Hopefully they would find his suits and Mr Chang would tell them that they were his. Then hopefully Adam would identify the van and they would be able to track their movements. All he had to do was bide his time. If an opportunity presented itself he would get Stacy out of harm's way but he knew that Jo, Don and the rest of the team would do everything to find them. The thought was reassuring.

Stacy shuffled uncomfortable on the hard floor although the ride was smoother now they were on a straight road. "Alice will be worried."

Mac reached out in the dark and found her shoulder. "It'll be all right Stacy. I'll get you out of this, I promise." He felt the sickness return even as he uttered the words. He prayed that it was a promise he could keep. _Why had she picked that moment to step into the elevator? Why hadn't she just gone straight home after completing her chores? Why hadn't he tried harder to get them to let her go? _Guilt washed over him.

"Are they going to kill us?"

Mac turned his head sharply to look at her even though he couldn't see her. "No." He put as much conviction into the word as he could even though his head told him it was a distinct possibility. There was a minute's silence.

"Does it hurt?"

Mac was pulled from his train of thoughts by the unexpected question. "What?"

"Your face. Does it hurt? Where that man hit you?"

He had to admit that it hurt like hell. He could already feel the side of his face swelling. His cheek throbbed and it was sensitive to the touch and he knew that the blow had broken the skin on his cheekbone just below the eye socket. He could feel the stickiness. It wouldn't be pretty to look at. For once he was glad that it was pitch black so he told a little white lie. "No. It's fine." He felt her shuffle next to him as though trying to get more comfortable. Without knowing why he slipped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him fitting neatly under his arm. They sat in silence listening to the drone of the engine each drawing strength from the other's presence.

"Alice says you shouldn't tell lies."

She was a smart kid. Despite everything Mac found himself smiling.

.

The minutes stretched into hours. Time no longer had any meaning. The engine droned on and the temperature rose inside the van. They had only stopped once, a brief stop, probably for fuel. Much to his surprise Mac found himself dozing. He jerked awake as he realized they had slowed. He felt the van turn and bounce. It drew to a stop. The van rocked as though someone was getting out. Had to be Jowls, Mac thought to himself. Shifting that bulk would rock the Titanic. After a few moments the van moved again and manoeuvred back and forth. It was being parked.

Some minutes passed before there was movement at the doors and they were flung open. Mac was forced to close his eyes as he was blinded from the light pouring in. Opening them a crack he could see Jowls silhouetted in the doorway. "Comfort break. You've got five minutes." Mac pulled himself up and half crawled, half walked out of the van. He turned back to help Stacy who clung to his hand like a limpet. He squinted in the bright sun looking around at the rolling countryside, endless fields and stands of trees. The van was parked behind a dilapidated building out of sight of the road. Spotting several old rusted cars that stood half hidden among tall grass and Goatee sitting on a oil drum smoking a cigarette, his gun in his hand, Mac realized the building had once been a gas station that, judging by the weeds growing through the cracks in the asphalt, had almost certainly been abandoned for some time. "In there." Jowls waved the Desert Eagle towards a battered looking door that hung on it's hinges.

"Can we at least ..." Mac began only to have the Desert Eagle jabbed against his throat. Jowls glared at him. Mac nodded lifting a hand in resignation. The no speaking rule was clearly still in force.

"Four minutes," stated Jowls firmly pulling the Desert Eagle reluctantly away from Mac's throat.

Mac ushered Stacy into the back of the garage. The small bathroom stank. Stacy wrinkled her nose and looked at the dirty white tiles and graffiti-covered walls in disgust. There were two stalls, a urinal and a cracked wash-basin with a mirror above it. Tentatively Stacy pushed at one of the doors. She peered inside before stepping in. Mac rejected the stall in favour of the urinal. Having relieved himself he went to the sink and turned the tap but no water came out. He heard Stacy trying to flush the toilet. "The water's cut off." He looked at himself in the mirror as she came out. The right side of his face from his temple to his upper jaw was blue and purple with a blackened scab about an inch long and a dried trickle of blood. It still hurt. He hoped he wouldn't resemble Jowls when it healed.

"Two minutes," came a voice from outside.

Mac looked around as Stacy looked at her hands. She settled for rubbing them on her jeans. She looked at Mac who looked back at his face in the mirror. "I've got a tissue." She held out a packet of Kleenex. "Alice says you should always have a tissue in your pocket."

Mac smiled. "Do you have anything else in your pocket?" he asked quietly.

"Only a chap stick." Stacy pulled out a small pink tube. "It's strawberry."

Mac's smile grew a little wider. "Can I borrow that?" Stacy shrugged and held it out wondering why on earth a man would want strawberry chap stick. Her jaw dropped when she saw what he had in mind.

.

Jowls was about to enter the bathroom and give the arrogant bastard another whipping when the door opened and they stepped out. Irritably he waved them back to the van. He watched the man take another look around so he gave a shove just to make sure he knew who was boss. Jowls had taken a dislike to him the minute he saw him; it was something in his bearing and his attitude. It was those eyes, the way they looked at him. Jowls couldn't wait till to be allowed to teach this one a lesson.

Mac and Stacy climbed in the van. Goatee pushed away from the barrel where he had been sitting smoking. He picked up a brown paper bag and tossed it in after them and the doors were closed plunging them into darkness once more. The van rocked as the two men got back in and they took off again. After a small amount of manoeuvring the van settled once more into a cruising speed. Not fast, not slow. They were clearly trying not to draw attention to themselves.

Mac felt around for the bag. He pulled it towards him and put a hand inside and pulled out a plastic bottle. Water? There were also triangular shaped packs - sandwiches and some kind of candy bar. "I guess this is lunch. They obviously don't want us to starve." This puzzled Mac. For some reason Jowls and Goatee had been ordered to treat them well. Mac knew they were following orders as clearly Jowls would like nothing better than to punch his lights out. The questions was whose orders and why?

Stacy shuffled next to him. Her stomach had been rumbling for the past two hours despite the breakfast Alice had cajoled her into eating. Alice said breakfast was the most important meal of the day. "What kind of sandwich?" Mac pulled off a wrapper and sniffed. It had a faintly chemical smell. He took one of the sandwiches and bit into it. "Chicken mayo. Here take the other half."

"Okay." Mac felt her hands flutter over his in search of the other half. "Could be worse I guess."

They munched in silence for a minute then opened the bottle. It was Coke. After polishing off the second sandwich, Mac asked, "You still hungry? You want a candy bar?"

"Might as well. It's best to eat and drink while you can. You never know when you might get another chance."

Mac nodded in the darkness. She sounded like a Marine. "Alice tell you that?"

There was a moment's silence then Stacy spoke quietly. "No, my Dad."


	4. Chapter 4 - In Praise of Plastic Bags

**Chapter 4 – In praise of plastic bags.**

Sid stepped out of the elevator to see Sheldon standing in the corridor looking as though he were watching a tennis match. His head flicked back and forth between Mac's office and the AV lab. "Any news?" he asked as he rushed forward. Sheldon shook his head. Sid ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm afraid I can't be of any help. The bullet was too damaged to get stria. I've brought the fragments in case they can get you something." He held out a small plastic evidence bag.

Sheldon took the bag and examined the little shards of metal wondering if he could reconstruct a bullet from them. He didn't hold out much hope. He wasn't surprised by Sid's news. He had surmised as much but it was still frustrating as hell. "Jo's talking to Alice, Stacy's foster-mother. Her husband Hank is on his way in. He's working on a construction project down town." He gestured towards Mac's office where Alice and Jo sat, their heads bowed in conversation. Cold cups of coffee sat forgotten on the table in front of them. Sheldon twisted around to look at Adam who was skidding his chair across the room to tap furiously at another computer. He turned to look at them, his face a picture of misery. "Dammit," Sheldon muttered under his breath. "Their phones must have been destroyed. Adam can't trace them," he added for Sid's benefit. "He's trying to identify the vehicle that they used but it's not as easy as it sounds. Nothing is standing out on the traffic cams. Adam's trying to identify any private security cameras that might have footage but so far ..." He left the phrase hanging.

"Do we have any clue who's taken them?" asked Sid sounding a little breathless.

Sheldon grimaced. "No." He waved a hand. "Mac's made a lot of enemies. Put away a lot of dangerous men." Sid nodded. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. "Danny and Lindsay are processing the grocery bags and the dry-cleaning. Hopefully we can get a lead ..." Before he could say anything further, the elevator dinged again and Don stepped out accompanied by a solid looking man with short dark hair. Not as tall as Don but twice as heavy he was dressed in jeans and work-boots and wore dark jeans and a checked lumberjack shirt. He looked around at the lab in awe. As Don guided him towards them, the man spotted the two women in Mac's office.

"Alice!" He dashed forward. Alice Graham shot out of her seat and threw herself into his arms. Jo looked at them through the glass, the expression on her face one of despair. Deciding to give them a few minutes she stepped out into the corridor.

"Anything?" asked Don.

Jo shook her head. Sid couldn't help but look at his watch thinking Mac and Stacy could be anywhere by now. Seeing the impromptu meeting in the corridor Adam stepped out tentatively hoping for some good news. He hovered in the doorway glancing back at the multitude of screens desperately willing one of them to beep. "I've put out a BOLO on both Mac and Stacy across all five boroughs. I've also sent word to neighbouring states." Jo nodded her thanks.

"How's she doing?" asked Don looking at Alice.

"She's okay," said Jo as she looked back at Alice in Hank's arms. They could see his lips moving while he held her close. "But it's tough. Stacy has been with them for almost six months and it's been an uphill struggle. According to Alice, Stacy was picked up for stealing a sandwich from a bodega. When the police had her checked out they found that she was malnourished and underweight. They reckoned she had been living on the street for some time. She was clearly traumatized and had been through some kind of ordeal that resulted in multiple contusions and cuts but she was unable or unwilling to talk about it." Jo's face took on a thoughtful look. "When they did a background check, they came up with nothing. No birth certificate, no school registration, no missing persons report. They reckoned that she had run away from an abusive home and was giving them a false name for fear of being sent back so they placed her with Alice and Hank." Jo gave a weak smile as she looked back at the middle-aged couple who were both clearly distraught. "They've been foster parents for almost twenty years and have had thirty-two children pass through their home. They specialize in taking fragile, abused children." She took a deep breath. "Mac mentioned them once. He said they are wonderful foster parents."

The four men listening didn't respond although they were all thinking the same thing. _Could the abductor be one of Stacy's real parents? But if so, why take Mac too?_

"Guys!" They all turned around as Danny burst out of a nearby doorway. "We've got something." They all rushed down the corridor. Adam hesitated not wanting to leave his computer searches but curiosity got the better of him and he trotted after them. Automatically they all spread themselves round the light-table. "We've processed everything. We've hit a dead end except for the dry-cleaning."

"Fortunately Mac's suits were protected by a polythene bag," Lindsay pointed to the item in question that was hanging in a fumigation cabinet. "And I was able to lift a print."

"And we got a hit in AFIS," finished Danny exchanging glances with his wife.

"Well?" asked Don desperate for some news. Any news.

Danny and Lindsay looked at one another. Don's stomach flipped. It was obviously not good news. Lindsay turned a screen to face them. "It belongs to this man. His name is Victor Gaunt." They all stared at the mug-shot of the man Mac had taken to calling Jowls. "He's an ex-boxer known to the Miami PD. He's got several convictions for public disturbance, brawling and aggravated assault but nothing recent. He's kept a low profile for a number of years."

"Miami? What's he doing in New York? He got some kind of beef with Mac?" asked Adam.

Lindsay shook her head. "I don't know. As far as we can tell their paths have never crossed but it's definitely his print on the dry-cleaning. What's worrying us is his ties to this man." Lindsay tapped an icon at the bottom of the screen. Another picture appeared but not an official police photograph. It looked as though the person had been caught with a telescopic lens walking to a private plane. The man pictured was completely different from the first. He had a handsome albeit slightly angular face with high-cheekbones and a long aquiline nose. Although the file said he was only thirty-eight he had gone prematurely grey and his thick hair was cut in a short, almost military style giving him a rakish air.

"Who is he?" asked Don

Both Danny and Lindsay opened their mouths but it was Jo who answered. "Cyrus Mason" They all looked at her in surprise. "He's an arms dealer at the top of the FBI's most wanted list. They've been trying to get something on him for years. He's suspected of selling arms to all the major terrorist groups. How are he and this Gaunt related?"

Danny rocked on his heels. "According to his file, Victor Gaunt is believed to be Cyrus Mason's right hand man."

Jo frowned. "Why would he go after Mac?"

Lindsay shrugged. "We have no idea. We can't find anything that even remotely relates them."

There was a moment's silence. Suddenly Jo realized everyone was looking at her. The knot in her stomach tightened as she realized they were waiting for her orders. Mac was missing and that put her in charge. "Okay, Lindsay, Danny keep digging. We need to know everything about Cyrus Mason and Victor Gaunt." She looked at Sheldon who kept fingering the bag Sid had given him, the only outward sign of his nervousness. "Sheldon, see if you can get anything from those bullet fragments. Adam, I know it's a long shot but keep on those traffic cam's. If we can identify the vehicle then we might have a chance. Run a facial recognition search on Gaunt too. We may be lucky and get a hit." Adam nodded. "Don, I need you to go see Rachel Willis at Child Services. She was the person who handled Stacy's case."

"You thinking that this might be about Stacy rather than Mac?"

Jo shook her head. "I don't know Don. What does a Miami gun runner, an ex-boxer, a thirteen-year-old runaway and Mac Taylor have in common?" Fortunately she didn't wait for an answer "We have to explore all possibilities. I'm going to talk to Stacy's foster parents."

Jo's mind was whirling with potential answers to her own question. She paused outside Mac's office, her stomach turning at seeing his chair empty. The whole situation seemed crazy. And she felt guilty. It was her fault. Jo closed her eyes as she recalled her words to him the previous day.

_Her jewellery jingled as she stuck her hands on her hips. "You need to take a day off."_

"_Jo!" Mac looked up from the piles of paperwork on his desk, his voice taking on an exasperated tone._

"_Don't Jo me! Look at you. You're exhausted. You need a break. I don't want you to come in tomorrow." Mac had rolled his eyes and gestured at the papers covering his desk. "I'm serious Mac. You're working yourself into the ground. Finish the Bronx case and then leave the rest till Monday. I'll finish the personnel reviews and the promotions grid. Take a day off. You haven't been home in three days and you've worked the last two weekends. You need a break and, I suspect, do some laundry and get some groceries. Do you even have anything to eat in your fridge?" Mac had the grace to look sheepish. She was right. His fridge was empty. Well there was some milk and juice but he was pretty sure they had gone off. And he didn't even want to think what life-form the bread had probably turned into by now. "Please Mac? For me."_

_Mac looked at her. She had her best smile fixed on her lips and she looked downright adorable as her big brown eyes pleaded with him. What had she said? For her? He nodded slowly. "Okay but on one condition." She looked at him inquisitively. "Chicken Alfredo"_

"_Chicken Alfredo?" she spluttered confusion written all over her face._

_A tiny smile played around the edges of his lips. "Chicken Alfredo. Tomorrow evening at seven?"_

_She looked startled. "Are you … asking me to dinner?"_

"_I am." He looked at her intently pleased to see a small blush spread across her cheeks and a large smile light up her face._

"_Oh!"_

"_It's my speciality!"_

"_Well in that case how can I refuse?"_

Jo was pulled from her reverie as she saw two anxious faces peering at her. Alice and Hank sat side by side on Mac's sofa. She gave them a reassuring smile though her heart was heavy. She hadn't the faintest idea what she was going to say to them.


	5. Chapter 5 - Fathers, felons & fire-arms

**Chapter 5 – Of fathers, felons and fire-arms**

As the hours succeeded one another, the heat and the endless motion had caused Stacy to doze off. She was once again tucked under Mac's arm. Unable to sleep, Mac stared into the all-encompassing darkness replaying their conversation over in his mind.

"_What happened to your dad Stacy?" he asked gently._

_At first he thought she wasn't going to answer him. Then suddenly she began to talk. Not the happy chatter from that shopping trip earlier that morning but in a small, timid voice devoid of all emotion. She sounded as though she was reading from a dull school book, each word pronounced flatly with no feeling. "He's dead. We were going to Canada. He said that we were going to start a new life. We'd get a new house and he'd get a new job. He said we had to have new names too. But then our plane crashed and he died." _

_A plane crash? Mac was momentarily stunned. "Where was this Stacy?"_

"_I don't know. In the mountains. I was asleep in the back. Dad was flying. He was a pilot. There was a storm. I don't really remember what happened. After the crash I waited. I thought someone would come to rescue us but they didn't so … so I had … I had to ..." She broke off. Mac understood._

"_You had to leave him. It's okay Stacy. You did the right thing. Go on."_

"_I was by a river. There were lots of rocks. There was this waterfall. It was steep and slippery and I got lost. I walked for ages through this forest and then I came across a trail so I followed it. Then I came to a track and followed that. There was a man fixing his truck. He was kinda' scary looking. My dad had said I shouldn't trust anyone so I climbed in the back of the truck without him seeing. I guess I fell asleep as when I woke we were in this yard and there was another man unloading the boxes. He yelled at me and I got scared and I ran. I kept running. I didn't know where I was so I kept going. Eventually I found out I was in New York. It was cold and raining so I went to the museum and I hid in the toilets and slept in one of the exhibits." She paused. "Only they don't come to life like in the movie," she added sounding a little disappointed._

"_Why didn't you go to the police, Stacy?"_

"_Dad said we couldn't. There was a bad man who was angry with him and that this man was very rich and he would be able to find us. So we had to go find a new home. We were going to live in Canada. Dad said we would get a house and I could have my own flower garden."_

"_Was that were you were going when the plane crashed?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Where did you live before?"_

"_Miami."_

"_Stacy, what was your dad's real name?"_

"_Sam Garner"_

"_Is Stacy your real name?"_

"_Yeah but I told the police and Alice and Hank that my name was Stacy Daley. Like Larry Daley from the movie. I'm sorry I lied."_

"_That's okay Stacy. Do you know the name of the man your father was afraid of?"_

"_Yeah, he was his boss. His name is Cyrus Mason."_

.

Those two simple words were like a slap in the face. Of all the scenarios Mac had imagined as the reason for their abduction, none of them had put that man as the cause. As he sat in the darkness listening to the drone of the engine his mind tried to piece together the scraps of information. Cyrus Mason. He knew that name. It was on the FBI's most wanted list. It was red-flagged so all NYPD executive officers knew to contact the Bureau if that name came up in relation to any investigation.

_Stacy's father Sam Garner was a pilot. Cyrus Mason was an arms dealer. Was that the connection? Sam Garner had worked for Cyrus Mason Had he shipped arms for Cyrus Mason but had a change of heart or had he been duped? But Sam was dead so why go after Stacy? It seemed unlikely that he would want revenge on the thirteen year old daughter of a dead man._

His mind focussed on the problem at hand as he processed the new information but slowly he became aware of a change in the movement of a truck. They slowed, swung left and began to follow a more winding route. After a while the engine began to sound more laboured and the gears changed down. The van rocked from side to side following the large turns in the road. They were climbing.

Stacy stirred next to him. "Mac?"

"Stacy, listen carefully. I think that we're nearing our destination. There's something I need you to do for me." Mac explained what he wanted and Stacy nodded in the dark.

.

The winding route had continued for what Mac thought was at least an hour when they turned to the left and the van slowed taking a smaller rougher road. Eventually it turned right once more and they crawled along over what felt like a bumpy track. It jarred their bones; both were feeling stiff and sore after sitting so long on the hard floor. The van pulled to a stop and the engine was switched off. The van rocked as their abductors got out. They felt the doors slam and then all went silent. They sat for some time listening to the ticking of the cooling engine.

Eventually there was movement at the back of the van. The doors opened. Mac squeezed his eyes closed to prepare for the bright light after being in the dark so long but he was surprised to see that, although not completely dark, it wasn't that bright. Jowls stood there, the now familiar Desert Eagle in his hand. "Out." They crawled out and stretched. Mac looked around. They appeared to be in the middle of a forest. Tall trees rose on either side of them, the late afternoon sun filtering down through the leaves. The ground underneath was rough and there were a number of boulders hidden among the undergrowth. A silver SUV was parked among the trees. Somewhere nearby he could hear the sound of running water and he thought he caught a whiff of wood-smoke. Mac found himself shivering in the cool of the shade after the heat in the back of the van. Stacy edged closer and slipped her hand into his. Jowls waved the gun at him. "That way and don't try anything stupid." They passed the van where Goatee was leaning against the driver's door, his hand on the gun in his belt. For a moment their eyes met but he looked away from Mac's piercing gaze, nervously flicking ash from a cigarette. Jowls shoved Mac towards a gap in the trees. A small path led downwards. It looked as though it had been roughly hewn and then smoothed over by endless footsteps. Mac led the way watching his step, his muscles stiff after the long uncomfortable journey.

After a few minutes the path opened out to a large clearing. A small lake glowed a deep sapphire blue in the evening light, its edges black where the trees cast their shade. A small wooden cabin stood invitingly at the water's edge. They made their way towards it and climbed onto the stoop. As they approached a man opened the door. Mac felt Stacy stiffen beside him. He had long greasy-looking hair tied into a pony-tail. He wore jeans tucked into cowboy boots and a denim shirt with a silver-tipped Bolo tie engraved with a pair of crossed guns. He too had a gun stuck into the waistband of his pants. He leered at Stacy and reached out to touch her hair. "Hey there girlie. Ain't you the pretty one?"

Mac felt his anger boil inside him and he pulled Stacy closer as he glared at the man. Jowls jabbed the Desert Eagle hard into his back. "Move it." Ignoring the pain, Mac stood his ground, his eyes challenging the man in front of him.

"Zeke!" An authoritative voice called from inside. Zeke grinned showing his uneven, nicotine stained teeth, and stepped back allowing them to enter although his eyes never left Stacy.

The small cabin had bare wooden walls and floor but was neatly furnished. There was a small kitchen fitted out with simple pine cupboards and a large ceramic sink, the plumbing hidden by a red and white checked curtain. Matching curtains covered the windows. Mac could hear the whine of a generator that powered the lights. A wooden table with four high-backed chairs stood in the centre of the room set with two bowls, two spoons, two glasses of water and a loaf of bread on a board. Something was bubbling gently on the stove. A fire had been lit in the grate. Two wooden chairs stood by the fire-place. In one sat a man wearing army-green cargo pants tucked into sturdy walking boots. His matching shirt was rolled up to the elbows and he wore a pocketed sleeveless jacket giving him the air of a jungle explorer. He held a glass of bourbon in one hand swirling the liquid round lazily while he looked them up and down.

"Hello Stacy."

Stacy remained silent but Mac could feel the pressure of her fingers as they gripped his hand tighter. Mac studied the man in front of him. He put him at 5'12'', around 160lbs. He had short grey hair and cold ice-blue eyes. Mac guessed he was no more than forty despite the grey hair. He had an authoritative almost arrogant air about him, one that said he liked power and money and had plenty of both. Mac was in no doubt that the man sat before him was Cyrus Mason.

"And you must be Hank." Mac could feel Stacy stiffen beside him but she didn't say anything. Mason waved to the chair. "Please sit."

Mac didn't move. "What do you want?"

The corners of Cyrus' mouth twitched in amusement. "Not one to beat around the bush I see. Very well." He pushed himself up from the chair, drained the liquor in one mouthful and placed the empty glass on the mantle-piece between an antique looking clock and a wooden candle-stick. He took a step towards them. He stared at Mac for a moment then looked down at Stacy. "It's very simple. Your father stole something from me and hid it in that plane and I want it back. And you and Hank here are going to get it for me."

Stacy stared at him in incomprehension. "Wh...what?"

The man's lips stretched into something akin to a smile. "Tomorrow morning we're going on a little hike and you are going to show me exactly where your father's plane crashed."

Stacy's eyes went wide. "But … but I don't know where ..." she stammered.

Cyrus lifted a hand to silence her. "I do … at least I've calculated the approximate area in which the plane went down. I'm sure that once we're there we'll find something to jog your memory."

"I'm not going to help you," Stacy spat making Mac want to smile. The girl had guts. This time Cyrus did smile, a slow menacing smile. He reached a hand behind him. It took less than three seconds for Mac to find himself staring down the barrel of a Glock 17. Mac quelled the urge to rip it out of Mason's hands and shove it down his throat. He was getting more than a little tired of staring down the barrel of a gun.

Cyrus glared at Stacy who had gone white. "Oh I think you are. Because if you don't I'm going to blow your step-father's brains out."


	6. Chapter 6– Visits and Visitors

**Chapter 6 – Visits and Visitors**

"Name?"

"Stacy Daley. D. A. L. E. Y," he repeated. Don Flack stood towering over the desk. He arched an eyebrow thinking that it would rival Jo's for untidiness. It was piled high with files, scraps of paper empty coffee cups, a half-dead pot plant and oddly a pair of black stiletto shoes. Also like Jo's there were several dozen sticky-notes attached to the screen, stuck on various files. There were even four on the Simpson's coffee mug that served as a pen holder. The woman at the other side of the desk peered at the computer-screen over the top of her half-moon glasses. "Daley. Stacy. Runaway. Probable abuse victim. Picked up for stealing a loaf of bread," she drawled as though bored by the question. "Refused to talk. Placed at St Agne's. Ran away. Eventually placed ..." She peered at the screen again and tapped a key. "... with Alice and Henry Graham. They're group C's." She looked up at Don who raised his eyebrows questioningly. "C's handle troubled kids."

"Did you try to find her family? Who she really was?" asked Don trying not to sound irritated.

Rachel Willis shrugged and tucked a limp lock of mousey brown hair behind one ear. "Ran her through Missing Persons, checked surveilled families."

"Surveilled families?"

"Families we suspect of abusing their kids. No match." A thought seemed to strike her. "Wasn't surprised though. Not a New Yorker. Dr Walsh thought south. Florida maybe. Something she said, faded tan. Had little stick-on tattoo's. Like she spent time in shorts and top."

"You didn't push her for information?"

She shrugged again. "Not my job. Found her a placement. She settled well." The phone rang. She snatched at it irritably. "Rachel Willis, Child Services … No ..." She looked at her watch. "Not today. Call me in the morning." She hung up and glared at Don. "Anything else?"

Don tried to keep his cool but Ms Willis and her shortened sentences were beginning to get on his nerves. "Where can I find Dr Walsh?"

.

While Don traipsed around the Child Services building Adam was coddling his girls. "Come on baby, you can do it," he coaxed as his fingers caressed the keyboard. "Just give us a place to start looking." Sheldon stood looking over his shoulder, a hint of amusement in his dark eyes as Adam sweet-talked the machines. Having hit a dead-end with the bullet fragments he had gone to see if he could help Adam. Together they had come up with an algorithm that would hopefully give them the most probable escape route after leaving the alley based on the least number of traffic cameras, the fastest way out of the city and the most likely vehicles to look for. Movement outside the glass partition pulled their eyes away from the screen. Three men were striding down the corridor towards the conference room where Jo, Danny and Lindsay were comparing notes, Jo having finally convinced Alice and Hank Graham to go home with a promise to call them as soon as they had anything new.

As they watched the three men walk past Sheldon muttered. "That doesn't look good." Adam had to agree. Just the letters on the backs of the blue jackets of the two men following Al Harrison, the new, deceptively mild-mannered Chief of Detectives, were enough to make him want to hide.

"What do think the FBI are doing here?"

Sheldon looked grim. "I guess Danny and Lindsay's search on Cyrus Mason set a few bells ringing." He looked at Adam. "I reckon we ought to go see which ones." Sheldon headed for the door. Adam reluctantly rose to follow but sighed with relief as one of his '_girls_' bleeped. He looked hopefully at Sheldon.

"Betsy's got something."

Sheldon paused in the doorway with an incredulous look on his face. "Betsy? You've given your computers names?" Adam looked at him wondering why that was surprising. "Man you need help!" muttered Sheldon as he rejoined Adam to peer at the screen to see what '_she_' had found.

.

Jo turned away from the situation board, a pen in her hand, as Harrison rapped on the door and entered without waiting. "Detective Danville, these are ..." He cleared his throat. "Agents Wright and … er … Wong from the FBI." Jo stared at him in surprise and then at the agents who were watching her with stony expressions. Despite the seriousness of the situation she squashed the desperate urge to laugh. Danny unfortunately didn't but managed to turn it into a cough. Lindsay kicked him under the table. "It seems your investigation into Cyrus Mason has flagged your interest to the Bureau. Please be so good as to fill them in on what you have so far." Harrison looked at her pointedly. "I … er .. take there have been no developments since we last spoke."

"None Sir." Jo waved a hand to the two agents. "Please feel free to sit ..." Neither man moved. Agent Wright, a slim built man wearing a dark suit and insipid coloured tie under his official FBI wind-cheater, fixed her with a cold expression. Agent Wong had one of those oriental expressions that made it impossible for her to guess what he was thinking. "Er ... well … at ten thirteen this morning, a man by the name of Justin Myers was shot and killed with a bullet from a large calibre hand-gun. Our investigation puts Detective Mac Taylor and a girl by the name of Stacy Daley at the scene together with a man called Victor Gaunt. The evidence leads us to believe that Victor Gaunt is responsible for the murder of Justin Myers and the abduction of Detective Taylor and Stacy Daley." The two agents exchanged glances.

"Would you please tell us why you believe that Cyrus Mason would be involved in the abduction of a NYPD police officer and a thirteen year old girl?" asked Wright

Jo opened her mouth in surprise. She hadn't even mentioned Cyrus Mason's name "We haven't ascertained that yet. However, if you have any information that would help us..."

"We are not at liberty to share any information on an on-going investigation," intoned Wright automatically. "However we will keep you apprised of any progress we make in locating Detective Taylor."

Jo, Danny and Lindsay started. "Whoa! Hold on just a minute!" Danny sprang out of his chair. "You're not letting them take over?" He glared at Harrison. "This is Mac we're talking about."

Harrison was tempted to smile. He had expected just that reaction from the young CSI. Although it hadn't been long since he hadn't taken over from Brigham Sinclair, he had already a good feel for the crime lab team and their loyalty to the hard-headed, stubborn son-of-a-bitch that run it. He'd been warned about Taylor when he took on the job but despite the man's reputation he had discovered him to be a dedicated, honourable man though he had to admit stubborn didn't even begin to describe him. "Take it easy Detective Messer. This is a joint investigation."

Wright and Wong turned to look at him in surprise "It was our understanding that ..." began Wright but Harrison held up a hand fixing the FBI man with a cold expression. "We will share all information we have concerning Cyrus Mason. He is your affair but Victor Gaunt is the prime suspect in a murder investigation and in the abduction of the head of NYPD Crime lab. Detective Danville and her team will continue their investigation into those aspects of the case." He squared up to the two agents. "Now I believe that you may have information for us regarding the identity of the girl that was taken along with Detective Taylor."

Again the two agents exchanged glances. There was a pause as both parties eyed the other. Eventually Wright nodded to Wong who pulled a leather case from under his arm and extracted a slim file. He placed it on the table and pulled out a photograph, turning it to face them. "This is Sam Garner. He was a pilot for a commercial freight service out of Miami. The company was owned by Cyrus Mason. Garner disappeared a year ago just after Cyrus Mason delivered a shipment of arms to rebel forces in Mali." Wong looked uncomfortable for a moment. "Let's just say that those arms were intercepted and Mason was allowed to get away with the payment."

"Why?" Jo didn't like what she was hearing.

"We had managed to get someone undercover in Mason's organisation. There was a rumour that a big deal was going down involving an Al Qaeda cell operating here in the States. Mason was going to use the funds from the Mali rebels to finance that deal. We were hoping to track the money so that it would lead us not only to the Al Qaeda contacts but also to whoever is sourcing those weapons here."

"I sense a but." Jo glared at the two agents.

"But things went wrong," he admitted with a sigh. "The payment and Garner disappeared into thin air. Since then Cyrus Mason has been forced to pull funds from his different businesses to fulfil the Al Qaeda shipment. He badly needs the payment from the Mali rebels and our undercover agent says he is pouring all his energy and funds into finding Sam Garner."

"You think Sam Garner took it?" Danny pointed at the photograph.

Both men nodded. "Yes but Garner disappeared off the face of the earth," Wright admitted. "And he took his daughter with him."

"His daughter?" Lindsay exclaimed. They all looked at the photograph of Sam Garner. Dark hair, slim face and dark searching eyes. There was distinct family resemblance. "Stacy Daley is Sam Garner's daughter."

"Yes, yes she is."

.

Adam glanced at the people in the room. He had caught the end of the conversation but had missed out on why Stacy being Sam Garner's daughter was important. However, that didn't bother him as he jiggled nervously from foot to foot in the doorway hoping Jo would look at him. She did. He waved the tablet at her.

"What is it Adam?"

"I've found them. I mean I've found the van they were taken in. Rather we've found the van they were taken in ..." He gestured to Sheldon. Then he glimpsed Sheldon's face. He was staring at the two FBI agents with an expression that Adam could only describe as disgust. Adam broke off. He looked at the agents and then back at Sheldon as the others in the room stiffened realizing that something was wrong.

Harrison made the introductions . "Dr Sheldon Hawkes. Adam Ross, these are Agents Wright and Wong from the FBI."

Adam's jaw dropped and before he could help himself he spluttered, "Wright and Wong? No way!" They glared at him. "Er .. sorry." He flushed red as Danny sniggered and Lindsay elbowed him to be quiet.

Sheldon however didn't see the funny side. "You were there." His voice was as cold as ice. Everyone stared at him as he lifted an accusatory figure towards the two FBI men. "This morning. At the crime scene. You were there when I arrived."

Harrison spun to face them. "What?" The two agents exchanged glances once more. "I think you owe us an explanation." Wright looked down at his shoes under Harrison's scrutiny.

"You had her under surveillance?" Jo asked outraged. Neither man answered. "And you let them take her and Mac?"

"You sons-of-bitches!" Danny muttered under his breath. Lindsay put a steadying hand on his arm.

Wong looked apologetic. "The agent we had watching her was only instructed to keep her under surveillance and report in if he spotted any of Mason's men. We didn't know he was going to abduct her and Detective Taylor. I'm sorry."

.

"Sorry!" Don Flack exploded. "You're sorry?" he yelled at the two men who were now seated at the conference table opposite Harrison and Jo. Danny was stood against the far wall with his arms folded defiantly across his chest having refused to go home with Lindsay who couldn't leave Lucy any longer. Sheldon was back with Adam working on tracking the black Mercedes van that they identified earlier heading out of New York via the Lincoln Tunnel. Don stood at the foot of the table, his body rigid with anger as Jo had explained the reason for the presence of the two FBI agents. He stared at them in disbelief.

"Don!" Jo warned. Don ran a hand over his face and turned away to stare out of the window at the lights of the city below. He was furious. He felt as though he had spent the whole day chasing shadows and then he had got back to the lab to be faced with these two clowns. He forced himself to calm down. He took a deep breath and turned back.

"Dr Walsh said he sent a file on Stacy Daley to his counter-part in Miami. He would have passed it on the FBI Missing persons team. You knew who she was months ago?"

Wright nodded. "The file turned up about five months ago and a junior analyst made the connection. We put a team on her hoping she would lead us to her father, that we could make him turn state's evidence to indict Mason but nothing happened. There was no sign of him and after a month we had to pull the team off."

"I thought you had someone on the inside?" asked Danny.

"We do but Mason's a secretive son-of-a-bitch. He keeps his contacts to himself. He never lets the left hand know what the right hand is doing. And he's brutal. If he mistrusts someone they disappear. No trace. The only person who's been with him any length of time is Victor Gaunt. The others aren't trusted."

Wong butted in. "About four months ago our agent was asked to start searching small plane rentals for the time that Stacy's father disappeared.. Then about a month ago he contacts us to say that Mason is very interested in a small plane that was reported missing at sea during a storm off the coast of Massachusetts but our agent doesn't know why. Then last week he calls suddenly to say Mason has upped sticks and has gone to New York with Victor Gaunt."

"So you put someone back on watching Stacy?"

"Yeah but we didn't know he was planning to kidnap her."

"Where is he now?"

Wright shuffled uncomfortably and then sighed. "We don't know."


	7. Chapter 7 - A walk in the park

**Chapter 7 – A walk in the park**

The trail was full of different sized boulders, stones and massive roots of mature trees. Mac knew that many hikers referred to such trails as "ankle busters". He kept a careful eye on where he put each foot envying his companions their ankle supporting hiking boots with well cushioned socks. He knew that wearing training shoes was an open invitation for a badly sprained ankle or worse but that had been the last thing on his mind when he had slipped them on to get groceries the previous day. Stacy kept close to him occasionally eyeing the men following them.

After climbing steadily for almost two hours the trail suddenly emerged from the woods and they found themselves at an open ledge that was an eye opener. A wide sprawling landscape of lush forest scattered with patches of sparkling lakes and craggy peaks appeared in front of them in all their majesty. It was breath-taking. Mac could feel the change in temperature the higher they climbed. Although the jacket he had been given still hung open he knew that soon both he and Stacy would be glad of them.

"Five minutes," hissed Mason grudgingly. He turned to whisper to the others. Mac guided Stacy to a fallen tree and offered her some water.

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay."

"I thought Alice said you shouldn't tell lies." Mac grinned at her and she gave him a weak smile. She looked exhausted. There were darks shadows under her eyes and they had taken on a haunted look ever since she realized that she would have to go back to the site of the crash. The events of the previous day had caught up with her and she had had trouble sleeping. After Mason had delivered his ultimatum he had them sit at the table. They were given soup and bread. Then he had allowed them fifteen minutes in the tiny bathroom before locking them in the back room. Stacy had slept on a small wooden cot and Mac had a sleeping bag on the floor. He hadn't slept much either. Although the men had all taken him for Hank they only had to look in the black draw-string bag that Goatee had thrown in the corner of the cabin along with some back-packs and a heavy-looking blue canvas hold-all. Strangely the black bag and Zeke had not been there the next morning. Mac couldn't say he was sorry to see Zeke gone although he couldn't help but wonder where he had disappeared to. After their room had been unlocked and they had been given breakfast and allowed to use the bathroom once more, Goatee, who Mason referred to by the name Casey, had thrown him a coat and a backpack. Casey and Jowls, who Mason called Gaunt, ironic thought Mac given his wide face, had kitted themselves out in khaki and walking boots and were also equipped with rucksacks.

What had worried Mac the most was not the contents of his pack but the contents of the blue canvas hold-all. Mason had unpacked it and had handed Casey and Gaunt hunting rifles and ammunition. The odds were stacking against him. Jowls' Desert Eagle was a .44 with 8 bullets. Mac had noticed two spare magazines which, minus the one he had put into the poor unfortunate security guard gave him 23 plus the Remington 700 with it's 5-round internal magazine and spare box putting his count at 48 rounds. Goatee had a six-shooter and at least one quick-charge. Together with his rifle that put him at least 32. Mason himself had a Glock 17 with two spare cartridges putting the grand total at 136. Mac did not like those odds at all.

"Mac?" Stacy whispered glancing nervously at the men who were huddled together pouring coffee from a flask. "I have no idea where we are. I don't recognize anything. It all looks the same." Mac smiled at her sympathetically. "What if I don't find it?"

"We'll find it." Mac smiled at her confidently. "Just stay close." Stacy nodded at him. There was no way she was leaving his side.

"Break's over. Keep moving." Jowls, as Mac continued to call him, lifted the muzzle of the Desert Eagle and pointed it at Mac. Mac swallowed a mouthful of water and stowed the water bottle in the side-pocket of his back-pack.

The trail re-entered the woods and, after a short descent, the trail began to rise again getting steeper and steeper. Mac noticed Stacy looking at some long flowing, green, hairy, beard-like growths on the branches. "It's a lichen called Usnea Barbata commonly known as Old Man`s Beard. It's pretty unusual ..." Mac broke off as the barrel of the Desert Eagle jabbed once more into his back.

"Shut up. Keep moving."

Mac gritted his teeth. Jowls was seriously beginning to piss him off. He spent the time contemplating what he would do with that Desert Eagle given the first opportunity.

.

The day wore on and as they climbed the forest grew thinner. The ground underfoot grew harder. Mac could tell Stacy was struggling. Mason was pushing them hard. The trees petered out and they found themselves in a barren wilderness with the forest stretching out below them. The air was cool and the sun that had warmed them the previous day was now hidden behind a veil of cloud. Several times Mason had stopped, consulted the GPS tracker and looked at a map. He had asked Stacy if she remembered anything but she shook her head each time. Mason said nothing but urged them on.

As the reached the summit a cold wind blew and Mac looked to the West. He could see dark clouds on the horizon and he thought he saw a flash of lightning. He felt Stacy shudder by his side. She was looking down at the escarpment below them. It was steep and strewn with rocks. Mason urged them on. As Mac looked back he was gratified to see that, although Mason and Goatee looked unperturbed by their hike, Jowls was suffering. The heavy man was puffing as he climbed the final steps, his face red with the exertion. Mac reckoned that although the other man was at least ten years his junior, he wasn't necessarily as fit. Mac jogged or swam every day. He worked out whenever he could and watched his diet. He guessed that Jowls concentrated on the weights and, judging by that bulk, the steroids and the burgers too. He might be built for the short power play confrontation but in an endurance trial Mac knew he would win. Mac allowed himself a smile as he guided Stacy down the slope.

Having regained the forest again the going got a little easier but it seemed to be getting darker. It was often surprising how quickly bad weather rolled in. The wind picked up and the leaves rustled noisily around them but as they walked on another sound made itself known. The sound of rushing water. Before long the path they had been following through the trees opened out and they found themselves on a ledge by a river several feet below. The angry white rapids seemed to tear at the rock as though attempting to hold itself back. It rushed past in torrents desperate to make its way down the slope. The wooded terrain rose to their right where the river cascaded down the mountainside in a series of steps, the grey rocks covered with moss and algae.

"The waterfall," breathed Stacy. "It's the waterfall." She looked up at Mac partly in triumph at finding something and partly in fear at what was to come.

As soon as she uttered the words, Mason walked up to her and grabbed her shoulder. "Which way did you come?"

Startled, Stacy pointed to the waterfall. "That way but … I was … I was on the other side."

"How far is it?" he demanded.

"I … I don't know. Not far. Maybe about an hour." Stacy shrank under his gaze. Mac pulled her back towards him and for a moment he and Mason locked eyes.

Then Mason turned and spoke to Jowls. "Wait here," he ordered. "Watch them." Then he and Goatee consulted the map and the GPS tracker and headed off towards the waterfall. Mac gently guided Stacy to a rock overlooking the flowing water beside them. Gratefully he slipped off his heavy backpack and pulled out the water bottle offering it to Stacy. Jowls sank gratefully onto a fallen tree some metres away watching them, the Desert Eagle firmly gripped in his huge hand. They watched Mason and Goatee negotiate an invisible path beside the water course winding their way through the trees and up the slope. Eventually they disappeared from sight. Jowls shuffled uncomfortably on the rough bark and shrugged off his back-pack. He sneered at Mac just begging him to make a move as his cradled his weapon in his hands.

"You … er … need a bathroom break Stacy?"

Stacy shot Mac a quick glance. "What? Here?"

"Yeah," Mac pointed behind them. "You can go behind that tree."

Stacy looked doubtful but nodded and got up. She hadn't taken more than two steps before Jowls pounced up and demanded to know where she was going.

"Where do you think?" Mac said in his most acid tone.

Jowls stepped over to him. "I wasn't talking to you." He shoved the gun at Mac menacingly but quick as flash Mac grabbed the gun by the barrel and pushed it upward twisting it his hand. Caught by surprise Jowls found that he couldn't squeeze the trigger. Turning the gun through 180 degrees vertically, the trigger guard pushed against his finger and with Mac's full weight bearing down on it it had nowhere to go. The finger snapped. Jowls roared in pain and Mac pressed home his advantage. He ripped the gun from his hand and kneed Jowls in the groin. The big man collapsed to knees, his eyes watering.

Mac backed away, flipping the massive hand gun in his hands. He pointed it towards Jowls with a look of triumph. "Stacy..." he began.

The shot that rang out cut through the air sounded like the crack of a whip. A searing pain cut through his side just below his ribs. He heard Stacy scream as he felt himself crumple. Mac put one hand out to stop himself, the other automatically going to his side.

"Drop the gun or the girl dies!" Mason's voice rang out over the roar of the water. Mac groaned as disappointment, anger and frustration flooded over him like rollers at high tide. Just when he thought his luck had turned! Rolling onto his side, Mac looked back up the trail to see Mason with a rifle pointed directly at Stacy, Goatee standing just behind him looking stunned at the scene being played out on the river bank below. He had no choice. Mac half-closed his eyes and grimacing, he tossed the Desert Eagle to one side. The next minute a shadow fell across him and he looked up into Jowl's face that was contorted with pain and anger. Hatred burned in his eyes and Mac knew what was about to come but there was nothing he could do to prevent it. The massive boot connected with his stomach. Even rolling himself into a ball did little to ease the pain. His vision blurred and the blood rushed in his ears but he was vaguely aware of Mason shouting and Stacy screaming. The next thing he felt was a thin body throwing itself on top of him, small hands gripping his coat.

"Stop it! Leave him alone! Don't you touch him!" Stacy screeched as she stared defiantly at Jowls.

**A/N: Hopefully I've caught up to where I left you hanging in June. Again very sorry about that. Next set of chapters up on Monday. Let me know what you think so far!**


	8. Chapter 8 – Chap-sticks and Tomatoes

**Chapter 8 – Chap-sticks and Tomatoes**

Jo felt her head drop as she dozed off. She snapped upright disgusted with herself despite the rational part of her brain telling her that it was hardly surprising given twenty-four hours without sleep. She glanced at Don behind the steering wheel but he was focussed on the road driving as fast as he dare. His face registered no emotion but she knew that wasn't true. She had always known how much he admired Mac and that they were more than friends but it wasn't until Lindsay had told her how Mac had saved Don's life during a bomb blast that she realized just how deep that bond went. She dreaded to think what would happen if the worst came to the worst but she shook the thought away. She wasn't ready to go there just yet. Behind her Danny was talking quietly to Adam and Sheldon who were still ensconced in the AV lab. "Okay that fits with what Randall told us." He huffed in answer to an unheard question. "The way Don's driving we'll be there in less than half an hour." Jo looked at her watch. It was almost two hours since they had left and three since she had got the call. She had been sitting in Mac's chair staring out of the window when Adam had walked in with tea.

.

"_Can't sleep?" he asked softly. Jo shook her head smiling at him gratefully as she took the steaming mug. "Me neither." He watched her for a moment as though debating whether to say anything else. "He'll be okay Jo. You know that don't you?" Jo had looked up at the young lab tech conscious that he was trying to make her feel better. She was astonished to see a totally sincere look on his face. She realized that he believed it. Totally and absolutely. She had been sitting there imaging all the worst case scenarios, feeling utterly sorry for herself and at a loss as to what to do next and there was Adam totally confident of his boss' ability to get himself out of trouble. "You 'll see. He'll get a message to us somehow."_

_Jo almost shot out of her skin as her phone trilled urgently. She didn't recognize the caller. "Danville." Adam watched her equally surprised by the sudden call so early in the morning. Jo listened her face registering surprise and ... was it hope? Adam's heart leapt. "When was this?" She listened some more. "No I understand. We will be there as soon as we can. Can you text me the address? Thank you."_

"_What is it? Mac?" asked Adam excitedly._

_Jo's face was a picture. "He left us a message. "_

"_He did?" asked Adam incredulous that his prediction had come true so soon. Then he grinned. "Told ya!"_

_Five minutes later, accompanied by Don, Danny and Sheldon they gathered around the computer table. Jo laid her phone on it in front of Adam. He tapped at the screen as Jo explained the call to the others. "Albany PD called me as soon as their officer reported it. He had been out tracking some illegal street racers. He had been checking out a abandoned garage where they were thought to meet when he found a strange message written on the bathroom wall. It gave my name and an NYPD number."_

_Adam pulled up a photograph and, using his thumbs and forefingers, expanded it twisting it as he did so. Jo gasped. The four men were silent as they stared at the picture of a tiled wall. Adam swallowed. "Is that …?" _

"_Blood." Sheldon finished for him as Don and Danny swore under their breaths._

_Adam felt sick as he read the message. "Okay. That was NOT what I had in mind."_

_Jo could hardly bring herself to tear her eyes away from the message. "We need to get up there. Now."_

.

It should have taken well over two hours but thanks to light traffic and the early hour Don broke the records. The garage was easy to spot. A police cruiser was sitting outside with its lights flashing. As they pulled up a tall man with confident air pulled himself out of the driver's seat. He was what would be described as ruggedly handsome and under other circumstances Jo would have a taken a second appreciative look but she leapt from the car before Don even had time to switch off the engine. "Detective Danville?" Jo nodded as the officer stretched out a hand. "Randall Wade, ma'am." Jo made the introductions and he led them round to the back of the building. "I'm afraid the electricity has been off for some time but I had some portable lighting brought out for you." He gestured to the door and stood back.

They all wrinkled their noses at the smell but no one said anything. The tiled wall at the end of the bathroom was lit by a bright light plugged into a small generator that stood just outside the door. Jo felt sick. It looked even worse than on the photograph. The top line read 'Mac/Stacy'. It could have been a lovers' tag were it not for the words underneath. 'HELP! Blk MB Sprinter. MZV 97Y DIR N. Adirondacks? NYPD. Jo Danville.' It finished with the NYPD switchboard number and the letters SOS.

Danny pulled on gloves and stepped up to the wall. He peered closely at the writing and then swiped at it with his fingertip leaving a little smudge on the final S. Intrigued, he rubbed his thumb and forefinger together and then, much to Don's astonishment, he sniffed them. "Strawberry," he declared.

"Huh?"

Danny held his fingers out. "That smell like strawberry to you?" Don sniffed cautiously at the gloves then Jo did the same. They nodded. Danny looked back at the writing. "Greasy ... Shiny … Strawberry ... Chap-stick!"

"What?"

"It's blood mixed with chap-stick." Danny turned to look at them "Made it go further. Maybe he's not that badly hurt."

"That's a relief," whispered Don. "I think."

Randall Wade coughed politely. "I … er … took the liberty of putting out a BOLO on that number plate. I also contacted the Adirondacks park authority. I hope that was okay?"

Jo smiled at him warmly, a little of the tightness in her stomach easing knowing that Mac was alive and well when he wrote the message even if she didn't want to know how he got the blood to write it with. "Yes thank you. We appreciate your help."

Wade nodded to the wall. "This is for real then?"

Jo nodded. "Yes, a young girl by the name of Stacey Daley was abducted yesterday along with a colleague of ours." She gestured to the name. "Mac Taylor."

Wade's face was grim as he cut to the chase. "Why?"

"We believe that the men that took them are searching for a plane that crashed and they think that Stacy can lead them to it."

Wade's eyes opened wide. Of all the things they could have said that didn't even figure on his list. "A plane crash?" He looked at the message again. "In the Adirondacks?" He rubbed at his chin. "That's six million acres of park. Forest. Lakes. Rivers. Mountains. That's a helluva big area."

Jo, Don and Danny looked at him, their hearts sinking. They knew that already.

.

Adam stared in despair at the map displayed on the screen in front of them. The Adirondack Mountains, bordered on the east by Lakes Champlain and George, by the Mohawk Valley to the South and by Tug Hill Plateau to the West. A vast area with over a thousand peaks ranging from under 1,200 feet to over 5,000. And somewhere within that a small plane.

"Okay," said Sheldon firmly. "Wright and Wong said they believed that Sam Garner and Stacy had crashed at sea." He picked up a paper. "According to this report Sam Garner hired a plane under the name of Samuel Daley from a small airfield several miles from Miami. They logged a flight plan to a small private airfield near Raleigh where they refuelled listing their final destination as Providence, Rhode Island. These are the coordinates of their position before traffic control lost them." Sheldon held up the paper and Adam glanced at it jiggling the mouse on the desk to bring up a window on the screen., He tapped in the coordinates. The map expanded as though they were in a rocket rising high above the earth, the blues and greens merging together as the map expanded to cover Vermont and Massachusetts. A blue marker flashed on the screen just east of the small town of Montauk that sat out on a promontory as though it were about to fall into the sea. "According to the traffic controller, Garner had called in saying he was experiencing engine difficulties. The weather was bad with high winds. He lost altitude and disappeared." He looked at Adam. "Let's assume he didn't crash."

Adam nodded as his fingers flew over the keyboard. "So we'll take this as a starting point, let's see if we can estimate his range." He looked over at Sheldon who was typing away at the next workstation. _Adelaide_. Sheldon jabbed at a key. "Treat her nicely," Adam admonished. Sheldon rolled his eyes putting his foot down at sweet-talking a piece of machinery.

"Okay he was a flying a Cessna 172 , average range eight hundred miles with a forty-five minute reserve, at fifty-five per cent power, at twelve thousand feet."

"So it's six hundred and twenty-two miles from where they refuelled which leaves us with a possible range of one hundred and seventy-eight plus the reserve assuming he was flying cautiously." Adam hit enter with a flourish and a red ring appeared on the map. "Okay that doesn't narrow it down much."

"Restrict the search zone to the Adirondacks."

Adam nodded as he typed. "Why do think Mac thought they were heading there?"

Sheldon shrugged.

"Maybe he was hoping to cross into Canada," came a voice from behind them. They turned to see Lindsay standing in the doorway with a tablet in her hand. She jiggled her head contemplating the possibilities. "If you were running from an arms dealer you'd want to get as far away as possible. Mexico would be the obvious choice but maybe Sam Garner thought Canada was a safer bet. Maybe he knew of a safe zone where he could cross the border without being noticed." They all looked at the screen and the glowing red circle. "That's still a big area."

"Well, we can narrow it down. There's a number of factors that we know." Sheldon stretched the kinks out of his neck as he turned the facts over his mind.

Adam looked a little confused. "We do?"

"Mm. Mm. First of all the crash site hasn't been found or it would have been reported therefore it's not visible from the air so we can eliminate wide open areas. The Adirondacks are a major tourist attraction so eliminate all marked trails and public sections of the park. We looking for something remote."

Lindsay stepped up behind Adam. "We also need an area with heavy tree cover including Spruce and a log cabin that is at least thirty years old."

Adam and Sheldon froze, glanced at one another before turning round incredulous. "Oh … kay! And you based this on …?" prompted Sheldon.

"A tomato." Lindsay turned the tablet to face them. It showed a photograph of the bag of groceries that Stacy had dropped in the alley. "I took another look at the evidence..." Sheldon and Adam turned to face her. _So that was what she had been doing! Why were they not surprised?_ "... and in particular the squashed tomato." She tapped the screen to zoom in on the offending fruit. "It had been stepped on. I looked for trace and found a needle which Edna identified as Spruce and a fleck of wood that tested for high concentrates of Ammoniacal Copper Arsenate, a wood preservative that hasn't been available in the United States for over thirty years." She flashed a grin at them.

Sheldon smiled. "Nice." Adam nodded and turned back to the keyboard. His fingers hovered over the keys. "Oh and while you're at it, you need to look at the weather patterns for that day."

Adam winced. "Weather patterns?"

"Huh. Huh. Sam Garner was an experienced pilot. He was obviously intending to fake a crash blaming it on engine trouble and poor weather. But he did end up crashing. I think we can rule out engine trouble so it had to be the weather. Let's try the National Weather Service or the Meteorological Society? See if their records show any lightning strikes."

Adam shook his head in amusement. "You guys are good."

Lindsay patted him on the shoulder. "Now it's time for you to show us how good you are!"

.


	9. Chapter 9 – Camping woes

**Chapter 9 – Camping woes**

"_Stop it! Leave him alone! Don't you touch him!" Stacy screeched as she stared defiantly at Jowls._

"Step down Victor!" Mason yelled. "I said, back off!" Mac could tell it took every ounce of self-control for the big man to step away. He stooped to pick up his Desert Eagle with his left hand and slunk back to the fallen tree to lick his wounds watching them with a simmering fury as Mason and Casey made their way back down the slope.

Mason stomped up to them, set his rifle against the stone where Mac and Stacy had sat earlier and glared at Gaunt who was cradling his broken finger. He flicked his head towards Casey. "Fix that." Then Mason turned his attention to Mac and Stacy who hadn't moved from her defensive position crouched with her arms around Mac. Mason was staring at Mac with a hard expression. Mac was wondering if he was deciding whether to kill him or not. "That was very foolish Hank," he eventually said. "But I'm not going to kill you just yet. There's something I need you to do first. Now get up." Mac levered himself to his feet, his right hand clasped to his side where he could feel the blood easing from the wound. "Let me see." Surprised Mac removed his fingers and Mason examined the wound. The bullet had cut through the jacket and his shirt slicing through the skin an inch below his rib cage. Although it was a shallow graze, it was bleeding profusely. "We have to stop that."

Casey finished splinting Gaunt's fingers with a stick he had found and a basic medical kit he had retrieved from his back-pack. "What do you want to do Cyrus?"

"We'll camp here. That clearing we passed near the head of the falls will do." Mason looked up at the sky. "It's going to rain. We'll start out again at first light." With that he grabbed the rifle, slung it over his shoulder and pulled his handgun. He waved it Stacy and Mac. "That way." Despite the pain Mac couldn't help a small smug smile as Mason ordered Jowls to bring his backpack too. He rather liked the idea of Jowls being his pack-horse.

The five of them struggled up the slope brushing aside the foliage along the tiniest of tracks that led up to the right of the waterfall. The canopy overhead seemed to close in around them sheltering them from the worsening weather above. Eventually they emerged into a rock-strewn clearing. The sound of the waterfall was still audible but they were more than sixty yards away so it made for a gentle soothing backdrop to the rustling of the leaves. Mac realized that it was getting late and the sky had darkened. Bad weather was closing in and exhaustion was catching up with him.

"Collect wood," Mason ordered Stacy. Surprised she looked at Mac who nodded. "But stay where we can see you," he added menacingly pointing his gun at Mac. Stacy glanced nervously at Mac as though not trusting Mason to keep to his word. Then she cautiously moved off to pick up branches and twigs. Mason glared at Mac. "Sit there and don't move or I'll put another bullet in you." Mac walked slowly to a fallen tree and eased himself down. He wondered why Mason hadn't put him to work. Clearly he needed him and an idea was beginning to form in Mac's head as to the reason why. Jowls stomped up to him throwing the rucksack down at his feet with a look that promised Mac he was now at the top of the big man's personal hit list. Mac watched as the three men pulled tarpaulins from their packs. Clearing an area of stones, they spread one on the ground securing it with tent pegs and hoisted the other in the air attaching it to four trees. They tied it higher at the front so it sloped back towards the fallen tree ensuring that any rain that fell would run off behind the huge log. Casey then cleared an area of ground and surrounded it with rocks for the fire. Stacy brought an armful of wood and was sent off for more though she kept within sight, her eyes flicking constantly towards Mac and he found himself touched by her concern.

Within an hour they had shelter and a fire. Mason had even set some water to heat. He had ordered Mac to the right hand side of the shelter to sit against the fallen tree. He had then settled Stacy in the opposite corner, given her water and a protein bar ordering her to eat it. Stacy nibbled unenthusiastically at the bar as she watched Mason go to the fire, pull a long hunting knife out of his pack, unsheathe it and thrust the blade into the fire. From the blank look on her face Mac knew she had no idea what Mason was doing but he did and he wasn't looking forward to it.

.

After several hours of fitful sleep, Mac awoke to the soft patter of rain on the tarpaulin stretched above them. His mouth was dry and he would have given his right arm for a toothbrush, a shower and a shave. With a two day stubble and the bruise on his face that would be turning yellow and green now he was sure he looked pretty disreputable. Turning his head, he glanced over at Stacy who was still asleep in a sleeping bag next to the hunched form of Mason, the rifle lying next to him and his Glock in his hand. Mac winced as he wriggled awkwardly into a sitting position resting his back against the fallen tree. He was stiff from having slept in virtually one position. His shoulders protested at the movement. The zip tie that had been secured to a tent peg driven deep into the wood had dug into his wrists leaving angry red marks but that was the least of his worries. The events of the previous evening came flooding back to him and he wondered how long he would be able to maintain his pretence.

He glanced over at Casey. As though sensing his eyes on him the man in question rolled over and looked directly at Mac. His face was unreadable. Slowly Casey sat up and rolled his shoulders rubbing at his neck. He was clearly not accustomed to sleeping on the ground. He undid his sleeping bag and revived the fire that was beginning to smoulder in the light drizzle glancing at Mason and Jowls as he did so. Turning back to Mac he ran a hand across his goatee thoughtfully. He glanced once more at Mason who, to all intents and purposes, seemed to be sleeping. Then he pulled the medical kit from his bag. He stepped over the sleeping form of Jowls and squatted down by Mac. Pulling a small pair of scissors from the kit, he snipped the zip tie around Mac's wrists waiting while Mac rubbed some feeling back into his hands. He then gestured to Mac to lift his shirt and tentatively peeled away the edge of the dressing. Mac noted the same look of concern as the previous evening. "I'll put a fresh dressing on," he whispered. He rooted around in the pack and passed Mac two more pain-killers and a bottle of a water.

"Thank you." Mac said simply when he had finished. Casey nodded and looked as though he was about to say something but Mason stirred, coming awake immediately. Mason frowned at them.

"You'll live," Casey said gruffly pretending not to notice Mason staring hard at them. "Swallow those and eat something. You're gonna' need your strength." Casey got up and walked away, stowed the kit and walked off into the trees to relieve himself.

.

Fortunately the rain stopped as they began to break camp. Once more Mac found himself sidelined from the work as though they needed to keep him from exerting himself. As the men rolled up the tarpaulins Stacy sidled over to him. "Are you okay?" she asked in a small voice still horrified by what she had witnessed the previous evening. Watching Mason draw the red-hot blade from the fire it wasn't until he had told Casey and Jowls to hold Mac down that she realized what he intended to do. Ashamed, she remembered that she had screamed and closed her eyes. She had cried herself to sleep.

"I'm fine Stacy." Mac reached out and put an arm around her shoulders as he looked at her tear-stained face and puffy eyes. "It'll be okay you'll see."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He looked at her questioningly. Slowly she raised her eyes to his. "It wasn't you who got me into this. It's me who got you into it. It's all my fault. I'm so sorry." Tears sprang to her eyes. He pulled her close and she buried her face in his shoulder.

"No Stacy, it's not your fault. It's theirs. You have nothing to be sorry for." Mac whispered as he held the trembling girl in his arms. He felt his anger towards their captors take root like a red-hot ball of fire in the pit of stomach. He took a deep breath to get it under control. He had to play this very carefully. He had one aim and one aim only. To keep Stacy safe.

"Did my father commit a crime?" Stacy mumbled into his shirt.

"I don't know."

"What do they want? What did my father take?"

"I've no idea," Mac sighed. "But I have a feeling we're about to find out."

Mason turned and yelled to them. "Get moving. We've got a long day ahead of us."

.

Unlike his partners in crime, Ezekiel Dryer, Zeke to his friends, had spent his day eating, drinking and gambling following it up with a comfortable night in a motel with a heavily made-up girl that he had picked up in a bar. He'd risen late, paid her well and headed to the local diner for breakfast. Eggs, bacon, and pancakes washed down with good strong coffee.

At Mason's request he drove the black van down to Albany taking it to a shopping mall and parking it next to a series of dumpsters as near to the staff car-parking spaces and delivery area as he could get. He'd picked a discrete corner away from the security cameras, carefully wiped it down and left the door unlocked and the keys in the ignition in the hope some kids would take it for a ride. He'd taken the black draw-string bag and had been about to throw it in one of dumpsters when curiosity had gotten the better of him. He peered in the bag and rummaged around. He contemplated selling the cell phones for a minute but knew that wasn't a good idea. Then spotted the wallet. His eyes sparkled with greed as he pulled out the wad of dollar bills. He shoved them into his pocket and was about to toss the wallet with the back when he noticed the plastic card tucked into the soft leather folds. He pulled it out. "What the hell?" He stared at the picture of the man he knew as Hank. He read and re-read the name on the card and the words: 'NYPD Crime Lab'. Then he pulled out the credit cards and read the same name there. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

.


	10. Chapter 10 - The Forty-Sixers

**A/N : Many thanks for the follows/favourites/reviews. Will be publishing two chapters at a time from here on in order to finish before the Autumn Vacation.**

**Chapter 10 - The Forty-Sixers  
**

Jo Danville had spent an uncomfortable night though it wasn't due to her surroundings. The motel that had been booked for them was clean and comfortable. The linen was fresh and plentiful but despite a good meal the previous evening, a long reassuring chat with Ellie and a warm bed she felt utterly drained. She had managed only three hours of sleep before dreams had awoken her and she had spent much of the night staring out of the windows at the rain-drenched parking lot frustrated by their lack of progress the previous day.

A tap at her door drew her away from her thoughts. She peered through the spyhole before opening up to find Don standing there, dark shadows beneath his eyes. She suspected he had had as little sleep as her. "You good to go?" She nodded and returned for her bag. Don took it from her and carried it over to the car where Danny stood, seemingly nonchalant as he leant against the hood but Jo could tell that he was as tense and worried as they were. Just as they were getting in a squad car rolled up. Randall Wade jumped out and ran over to them.

"One of our boys has found your van. In the parking lot of the local mall on the north side of town." Jo hesitated and looked pleadingly at Danny.

"I got it." Danny smiled at her. Jo looked unsure. "It's okay Jo. You and Don go ahead. I'll check it out and let you know what I find." He pushed away from the car and opened the trunk. He pulled out his overnight bag which he slung over one shoulder before pulling out his kit. He slammed the trunk closed. "Go. I'll catch up with you." Jo smiled her thanks and she and Don got in and drove off. Danny smiled at Randall Wade who offered to take his overnight bag. They jumped into the cruiser and set off.

"It'll take us about half an hour." Randall explained as Danny looked at the family photograph on the dashboard. The two kids looked like chips of the old block, both solid looking lads with sandy coloured hair. "My boys, Randall Junior and Grady," he said proudly. "You got kids?"

Danny nodded. "A daughter. Lucy. She's five."

Randall nodded grimly as his grip tightened on the steering. "The missing girl, Stacy? How old is she?"

"Thirteen."

"Damn. Same age as my eldest." Randall's face took an angry look. "Poor kid. After the crash and all. To have go through this."

"We're gonna' find 'em." Danny announced with more conviction that he felt. It had been almost forty-eight hours since Mac and Stacy had been abducted. Too long for his liking and he remembered a course he had taken back in the academy. _The first forty-eight hours are crucial._ He pushed the thoughts away. "Mac'll keep her safe."

"That's some tough terrain up there. And the weather last night wouldn't have helped." Randall flipped a switch to turn on the sirens as they approached an intersection. "Not a good night to be out on the mountain."

"Well Mac'll be all right. He was a Marine. And he'll do everything to protect Stacy. That you can be sure of."

"A Marine?" Danny could see Randall's interest was piqued. He looked at the buzz cut and then he thought about the man's bearing and firm manner. Another Marine. Had to be. "You know which unit?"

"Er … I believe it was the 1/8."

"The Beirut Battalion?" Danny could tell that Randall Wade was impressed. "We'll be there shortly Sir. I got a couple of our boys asking around for the driver." Danny shuffled uncomfortably not used to being called Sir. "If we're in luck they might have found something by the time we arrive." He gave another blast of the siren to clear the traffic ahead.

.

Don's face was grim as he pulled the car over to the side of the road. They glanced across the playing field to where the helicopter stood. The door of the chopper was pushed open and a man jumped out raised his hand in greeting. He was wearing khaki cargo pants tucked into solid boots, a white tee-shirt with a leather aviator jacket and shades. Don locked the car as he shouldered a small back-pack. They made their way across the grass. Don stuck out a hand. "I'm Detective Don Flack. This is Detective Jo Danville."

The sandy haired man nodded. "Carl Rogers at your service. I'm real sorry I couldn't get you in the air last night folks. Can't control the weather I'm afraid but she's fully fuelled and ready to go when you are. Randall said to take you folks anywhere you need. "

"Thank you Mr Rogers. Randall says you know the area well?"

"Yes ma'am. I've worked for the park authorities for nigh on twenty years. And I'm a Forty Sixer."

"A Forty-Sixer?"

"Yes ma'am." He pointed proudly at the green and yellow badge sewn on his sleeve. "Climbed all forty-six of the High Peaks. Know the park like the back of my hand."

"Well we're looking for the site of a small plane crash. This would have happened about eight months ago. We've identified these areas as being the most likely." Jo held out a tablet with a copy of the map that Adam, Sheldon and Lindsay had worked on. It showed an extensive area of mountain and forest with three areas marked in red and a dozen green dots. Carl nodded in agreement as he studied the map. "We believe that they may have had access to an old wooden cabin. One at least thirty years old. They're marked in green."

Carl nodded again as he rubbed thoughtfully at the ginger stubble on his chin.. "I know some of these. You can discard these two." He pointed at two of the most easterly dots. "They're being renovated. They've got no roofs at the moment. A buddy of mine is working on them. Your guys wouldn't be able to use them as a hide-out." He pointed at another. "And I know the couple who live here. Let me give them a call while you get yourselves settled." He opened the rear door and gestured for them to climb aboard before pulling a cell phone from his pocket. A young woman with a long sandy-coloured braid hanging out the back of a blue Adidas cap sat there. She smiled broadly at Don.

"Hi I'm Lina." Don made the introductions. "I was told that you may need a paramedic and someone with climbing skills." Both Don and Jo were impressed at Randall Wade's foresight. They also noticed the same green and yellow badge sewn on her sleeve.

"A Forty-Sixer huh?"

Lina smiled happily. "Yeah. Gotta be with Dad and Uncle Randy." She tipped a thumb at her father as he eased himself into the cockpit. "I could climb before I could walk!" she joked.

Carl smiled at his daughter. "I talked to the Corks. It's all quiet up there and they said that they dined with their neighbours, the Marshall's yesterday so that's another two you can knock of your list." He handed the tablet back to Jo.

She tapped at the screen and four green dots disappeared. "Another eight to go. Where do you suggest we start?"Lina peered over her shoulder quickly picking up on the significance of the dots when she heard the names Cork and Marshall. She pointed to one set slightly south and west of the others.

"Well that one is the most isolated. If you wanted a hide-out it would be pretty good. On it's own, quite a way off the road. It wouldn't be on the tourist trail like these ones further north."

Jo smiled. "Then let's start with that one."

.

While his brother-in-law and niece were taking off with Don and Jo in search of Mac and Stacy, Randall Wade stood staring at the black interior of the van. He couldn't imagine being locked in the back of the van for hours. He watched Danny with interest as he processed the van. He was impressed by the thoroughness and meticulousness of the search. Having done an overall inspection Danny was now moving onto the details. Of particular interest was the debris that Danny scraped from the tires. Randall peered at the paper Danny held out to him. "Looks like pine needles and sand and ..." Danny moved the grains of dirt around with his finger. "...asphalt. It's still tacky."

"I'll let Carl know. There's no road works in town so it has to have come from further north." Randall was glad to be able to do something. Danny nodded his thanks.

Danny's tablet bleeped. He smiled as he tapped the screen and propped the tablet on the dashboard so he could continue working. He pulled a brush and dusting powder from his kit and started on the steering wheel and controls. Lindsay's face appeared on the screen. "Hi babe! How you doin?"

She smiled but she looked worried. "We're fine. Anything?"

"Well I'm just processing the cab. Nothing so far. How about on your end?"

"Adam and Sheldon have run the plates. They're fake but the VIN you sent over corresponds to a rental from a small firm in Queens. They said it was paid for in cash by a man who identified himself as John Edmonds." Her face said it all.

"Let me guess. Fake ID?"

Lindsay nodded. "The guy from the rental company is sitting with a sketch artist as we speak trying to come up with a composite but it would be really nice if you could get us some prints. Cos so far all we have is that he's tall, skinny with long hair tied in a ponytail."

Danny huffed. "Yeah, well don't get your hopes up." The handles, steering wheel and stalks had yielded nothing. He moved onto the lights and radio controls. Lindsay suddenly turned away from the screen as though being called.

"Adam may have something. I'll call you back." The screen went black. Danny couldn't help feeling disappointed. He tried dusting the handbrake lever and the cigarette lighter. Nothing.

"Dammit!"

.

Adam and Sheldon looked like they had slept in the chairs they were sitting in. The normally immaculate doctor was dishevelled, his shirt crumpled and his sleeves rolled up. He looked as red-eyed as the young lab-tech sitting next to him. Lindsay looked at them hopefully.

Adam ran a hand through his hair. If his intention had been to smooth it down he failed miserably. It stuck up at all angles giving him the aspect of a well-loved teddy bear. "Okay we had a revelation … well sort of ..." He saw the look on Lindsay's face and decided a short version would be wise under the circumstances. "The inside of the van was a custom job right? There aren't that many places that do that kind of thing. So we rang round and found a garage that specializes in custom interiors. The guy confirmed that our John Edmonds ordered the work and paid cash with a BIG bonus for a rush job. What is interesting however is that when this John Edmonds turned up to drop the van off he was accompanied by another guy in a silver SUV who sounds suspiciously like our friend Victor Gaunt. Same thing when he came to collect the van. Victor Gaunt dropped him off."

"And that's where it gets even more interesting." Sheldon picked up where Adam left off. "When Gaunt dropped Edmonds off to pick up the van, the owner said he saw a large number of bags on the back seat of the SUV. All from the same store. They had the name McAllisters written on them."

"McAllisters?" Lindsay looked puzzled.

"Get this. They specialize in outdoor gear, particularly climbing gear." Lindsay frowned.

Adam twisted the screen to face her. "We just called MacAllisters. They remember the guys who came into the store. According to them they bought..." Adam consulted the screen in front of him. "... a rope bag, rope, a harness, a standard rack of quick-draws, a four foot sling, a daisy chain, four carabiners, belay devices, man-sized belay gloves, two sets of nuts and a set of SLCDs … that's … er … spring-loaded camming devices to you and me."

Lindsay looked a little nonplussed. "Okay I have no idea what half of those things are for."

Sheldon shrugged. "Nor do we. But the guy from McAllisters says they're what a solo climber would require to rappel and then climb a two to three hundred foot drop."

Lindsay's jaw dropped.

"So that's why they took Mac as well."

All three turned around to stare at Sid who was stood in the doorway with a tray of coffees and a large bag of pastries from the team's favourite bakery. His face was creased in concentration. "Jo said that Stacy's foster father Hank worked on a construction site. I couldn't help noticing his hands. They displayed distinct signs of Stenosing Tenosynovitis."

Sheldon nodded. "Trigger Finger. A common ailment among climbers."

Sid waved a hand in the air. "Our kidnappers were looking for Stacy in the company of a man, solidly built, dark hair. I remember hearing Hank say to Jo how he took her out on a Saturday morning when he wasn't working."

Lindsay gasped as the penny dropped. "They think Mac is Hank. They're looking for a plane that has crashed in a mountainous region. They not only need Stacy to pinpoint the spot but they need Hank to get it for them."

The four of them looked at one another for a minute as they pieced together the snippets of information. It was Adam who finally plucked up courage to ask the all important question. "What happens when they find out that Mac can't climb?"


	11. Chapter 11 – Seek and ye shall find

**Chapter 11 – Seek and ye shall find**

After the rain of the previous night the weather had cleared up. The clouds scudded across the sky allowing brief periods of sun to warm them. The breeze was cool as they made their way back up the far side of the falls. They had set off early and Mac had been surprised to find himself being led downstream. They had followed the course of the river for some time until they were able to find a place to cross.

They had walked for a good two hours before Mason had called a halt. He'd ordered them to rest while he pulled a small crossbow from his pack. He'd taken one of the nylon cords from Mac's rucksack and tying it to the bolt, he had fired the bolt into the tree at the far side before securing the other end of the rope to a nearby tree. Then he'd wrapped an arm around Stacy's neck, pushed his Glock into her side and had stared pointedly at Mac who he had clearly expected to try the crossing first.

Mac had negotiated the river with more ease than he had expected. The ice-cold water from the spring melts had torn at his shoes and pants but it was a relief to his aching feet and muscles. The worst part of the crossing had been when his foot had slipped on one of the rocks and he had been forced to hold onto the guide rope pulled taut between the two trees. It had pulled at his side and the the pain from the injury had made him feel sick. His stomach had churned and he felt himself become light-headed but somehow he had managed to regain his footing and had arrived breathless on the other side. He had almost collapsed but had forced himself upright not wanting to show any sign of weakness in front of the others. Goatee had gone next. Then Mason with Stacy and finally Mac had watched Jowls struggle to get his huge bulk across the fast flowing river. He had been surprised that the guide-rope didn't snap. The whole episode had one advantage in that the others had taken more time to get across giving him the opportunity to rest and conserve his strength. After a break they had continued back up the other side of the river.

.

It was nearing midday and the sun had finally come out with a vengeance forcing Mac to discard his jacket. He had taken his rucksack again and he could feel its weight biting into his shoulders. The shoulder strap was rubbing uncomfortably against his wound. Casey had slipped him two more painkillers at their previous stop but they were already beginning to wear off. They had struggled up the other side of the falls passing the place where they had camped. They'd been forced away from the river for some time until they came to a clearing with a number of fallen trees leaning against one another at odd angles. Stacy stopped.

"Stacy?" Mac saw the colour drain from her already pale face. "Are you all right?" But Stacy didn't respond. She was staring at the ground a little way ahead of them. A wheel lay on side. A wheel that was clearly part of the landing gear of a small plane. Mac looked at the trees. He could see young plants straining upward towards the light where several bigger trees had fallen. Looking around carefully, he suspected that this was where the plane had clipped the tops of the trees before coming down.

"Watch them!" Mason ordered and dashed off climbing over a large trunk before disappearing into the undergrowth. Jowls glared at them as though daring Mac to make another move. Mac pulled Stacy closer and his eyes met those of Casey. Casey stroked his goatee thoughtfully looking hard at Mac and then at Jowls. He licked his lips nervously. "It's here!" came the distant voice of Mason, a note of triumph in his voice.

"All right. Move it!" Jowls waved the Desert Eagle at Mac. Slowly they made their way through the foliage. They had to climb over one large trunk and before long they found themselves on the edge of a plateau looking down into the ravine where the river had cut itself a path. They were almost two miles above the falls.

Mason stood there on the edge, his rifle cradled in his arms. "So Hank, this is where you come in." He tipped his head towards the edge of the cliff. Telling Stacy not to move Mac slipped off his pack and walked to the edge. He peered down. The river was a white foaming torrent as it was forced through the narrow gorge. Bushes and small trees had grown up in the piles of rocks and below him, partially hidden by a rock ledge, was the stained wing of a small plane. Leaning out over the edge Mac could see that the plane had split in two. The cockpit and main body were further upstream than the tail end of the fuselage. He shook his head in amazement as he wondered how the hell Stacy had survived such a crash. He remembered she said she had been sleeping in the back of the plane. The open end of the fuselage pointed downstream. She could have crawled out, slid down the wing and made her way along the rocks till she reached the falls. The water level would have been a lot lower after the summer and exceptionally dry autumn they'd had so she could have made it up onto the bank. Her father however hadn't been so lucky. The nose of the plane had crumpled under the shock of the impact and was buried in a deep crevice between two the rocks at the water's edge. The swollen river would have swept it away if what was left of the landing gear hadn't tangled in the bushes and the wing tip been wedged against the rock ledge that jutted out by several feet some distance below him.

Mac straightened up and took a step away from the edge. Jowls picked up his rucksack and threw it at his feet. Mason smiled at him. "Get your gear on. Get down to that plane and get me what's mine or the girl gets it." Mac looked over to Stacy who was stood with a look of abject fear on her face. Casey stepped up behind her and wrapped an arm around her pulling her tight against him. For a moment Mac and Casey looked at one another then Mac turned to Mason.

"What exactly is it I'm looking for?"

Mason grinned. "Fifteen million dollars in uncut diamonds."

.

While Mac and Stacy had struggled up to the crash site, Don and Jo had already done an aerial survey of the one of the areas marked on the map. If they had been there for any other reason they would have admired the lush greenery and majestic azure lakes that reflected the snowy-capped peaks scattered throughout the park but their minds were on one thing and one thing only. Finding Mac and Stacy. Having found nothing they decided to move onto checking out the cabins.

Carl had put the helicopter down just over a mile from the cabin that Lina had thought would be the most likely candidate for the gang's hideout. Carl had put in a call to the parks authority and they had confirmed that the cabin was owned by a couple from Washington who were currently abroad and only used the cabin in the high season. Leaving Carl with the chopper Lina led them through the densely wooded terrain. It took them almost an hour to hike to the cabin. As they approached Don spotted a silver SUV hidden among the trees. Gesturing to Jo and Lina to remain where they were he approached it quietly, his gun drawn. He touched the hood. It was cold. It hadn't been used in some time. He peered in the back. A crumpled bag with the word McAllisters was thrown on the floor. He turned and flashed Jo a triumphant smile. They were in the right place.

Jo and Lina made their way silently towards him. "This is definitely it. Silver SUV and a McAllisters bag on the foot-well just like Lindsay said." Don kept his voice low as Jo peered into the back of the car.

"Okay where's the cabin?"

Lina raised a hand. "Down that path between the those two trees. It's by the water's edge." She made to move towards it when Jo gripped her arm.

"Wait! Listen!" The sound of an engine was getting closer. "Quick. Take cover. Over there." Jo pointed to a thick mound of bushes by the tree. Quickly they scrambled behind them ducking onto all fours. The sound of the engine got louder. After a couple of minutes a motorbike appeared. The rider was pushing it as fast as it would go. Don recognized it as a rally-cross suitable for rough terrain. The rider was as rough. No sooner had he stopped than he let the bike drop to the ground. He headed straight for the gap in the trees pulling off his helmet as he did so. Don caught a glimpse of denim and a head of greasy hair pulled back in a ponytail.

"Edmonds?" he mouthed to Jo. "Come on but stay behind me." Cautiously he got up and made his way towards the trees. He peered down the track. He negotiated the roughly hewn steps one at a time listening as he went. The only sounds was the light rustle of leaves and the occasional chirruping of a bird. Don gripped his gun a little tighter as the deep blue lake came into view. As the trees thinned he spied the cabin. The door was wide open. Don signalled for Jo and Lina to wait. Jo stepped in front of Lina drawing her gun nodding to Don that she had his back. Don inched forward and as he did so a twig snapped under his foot. To him it sounded overly loud in the silence of the forest but no one appeared. There was no movement from the cabin. He circled the cabin peering through the windows. His ears caught the sound of a man's voice coming from inside. He was shouting. Don listened carefully.

" can you hear me? … listen … not who he says he is ..."

Don ran for the door. The man he had seen earlier was stood in the centre of the cabin, a large black cell phone with a short stubby antenna was pressed to his ear. A satellite phone.

"... I saw his wallet. His name is Taylor. Mac Taylor. He's a cop!"

**A/N : Still enjoying it? More tomorrow.**


	12. Chapter 12 - Over the Edge

**Chapter 12 – Over the Edge**

Mac gave a final tug on the rope. He nodded encouragingly to Stacy who remained glued to the spot where she stood with Casey watching him intently as he prepared the climbing equipment. Taking a deep breath he leaned back, shook the rope out behind him and slowly stepped backwards over the edge. His heart was thumping so loudly in his chest he was surprised the others couldn't hear it. He let out a little more rope and took another step as he felt the harness take his weight. The rope stretched and held firm against the anchors that he used to secure his rope to two sturdy trees at the top of the cliff. His ears were filled with the sound of the rushing water from the river below. He took another two steps and then flexing his knees he pushed away from the wall. The rope slid smoothly through the eight as Mac pushed his brake hand down to prevent the rope from twisting. He glided down before swinging gently back to the cliff face, his knees bending and flexing as he bounced against the rock face. He paused to unclasp one of the hexes attached to the loops at his waist. He pushed the small block of metal with its attached wire loop into a crevice and pulled down hard before hooking in his secondary climb rope. He would be needing that later.

Mac looked up to see Mason and Jowls staring down at him. Jowls still held his gun ready clearly not trusting Mac but having little choice in the matter. Mac could not imagine the huge body-builder rappelling down a cliff-face. Again he pushed away from the wall and glided further from them. The hammering in his chest eased a little as he realized that it was going better than he had thought. Although it had been twenty years since he'd last rapped with his Marine buddies he discovered that it was like riding a bike. He was impressed by the new lightweight harness that fit snugly around his hips and thighs. It was a distinct improvement on the rudimentary equipment that he had used many years before. He was grateful that the padded waist belt came just below the wound to his side that was now throbbing viciously, the last of his painkillers having worn off some hours earlier. He ignored the pain forcing himself to concentrate on his descent as he approached the rock ledge.

.

His heart-rate finally returned to something approaching normal as his feet touched the ledge. He glanced upward. Mason was no longer in sight but Jowls was still there, gun in hand. Securing a secondary rope he looked down over the edge of the overhang that was some sixteen feet wide and almost three feet deep at it's widest point. The wreckage was another twenty feet below him. It was tipped to one side, the ragged open end facing towards the tail of the plane that lay some thirty feet away. From the top of the cliff it had looked like a child's toy that had been ripped in two and thrown down in a temper. Now up close and personal Mac could see the damage and again was amazed at Stacy's miraculous escape. Mac moved to the end of the ledge closest to the plane and, again playing out the rope, set off down towards the wreckage. He proceeded cautiously. The wall was no longer smooth but jagged and strewn with small plants that had managed to find tiny crevices into which to sink their roots. He steadied himself with one hand, his fingers curling around a rock that jutted from the wall but the rock crumbled in his hand falling away and tumbling off the rock face to splash into the white foaming water below. He scrabbled desperately for another hold before daring to trust his weight to the rope.

It was a strange sensation to be swingingly freely. He looked up and could see the rope tight against the edge of the rock ledge above him. He watched as it rolled against the sharp rock and he prayed that it wouldn't fray. Carefully he lowered himself towards the fuselage. He could now see inside. One of the windows was cracked, the other had fallen out completely. The back of the seats were covered in leaves. Little by little he approached the opening until his feet touched the edge of the fuselage. He had half-expected it to move and fall away as soon as he reached it but the carcass of the little plane didn't budge. It was firmly wedged. He allowed more of his weight to settle on the edge of the fuselage until he was able to twist around and slide himself inside. He could see the cockpit and the body strapped into the seat. Or rather what was left of the body. Time had taken it's toll and nature it's course. Sam Garner was little more than bones and matted tufts of hair, the tattered remnants of his clothing the only thing holding the skeleton together. Mac was grateful that his daughter wasn't there to see him but he vowed that somehow they would recover his body and give him a decent burial.

Bracing his feet against the backs of the seats he lowered himself further inside the plane. It still didn't move. He looked over the back seat and spied a bag. He leaned forward. There was an ominous creaking sound and the the plane shuddered. Mac froze, his heart in his mouth. He waited a moment but nothing moved. He leaned forward a little more and snagged the bag. Opening it he explored the contents. He sighed as he saw the pink tee-shirts and flowery shorts. There was a small blue bear and a well loved doll with wispy blond hair and what looked like a make-up kit and some pink sparkly jewellery. He zipped the bag up and wondered if he could manage to get it back to Stacy so she would have at least something from her previous life but at that moment he had more pressing issues. Pushing the bag to one side he climbed over the seats. The plane groaned in protest but he forced himself onward and peered into the front seats. Sam Garner's body was sprawled over the controls, one arm hanging by his side, the other thrown out in front of him as though to protect himself from what he had known would happen. Mac felt an overwhelming moment of sadness as he spied the wedding ring on his left hand and the watch still attached to his wrist. That, at least , he could take to give to his daughter. Swallowing his revulsion, he quickly removed the watch and the ring and pushed them into his pocket. As he leaned forward he could see a leather hold-all in the foot-well of the copilot's seat. He reached for it and the plane juddered. There was a wrenching sound and something gave way. The plane tipped to one side and Mac fell against the seat. He clung to the seat but the plane only moved a few inches coming to settle at an even more acute angle.

He remained immobile for a few minutes trying to catch his breath and calm his hammering heart. He reached once more for the bag and dragged it towards him. Unzipping it he rifled through the contents but there was nothing but clothing and a shaving kit. Mac leaned back to rest. His eyes scanned the interior of the plane. _What if Sam had hidden it under the seats or the floor or in the tail that lay further down stream? What if the diamonds weren't there at all?_ Mac almost shot out of his skin as the walkie-talkie at his belt squawked. He pulled it from it's holder.

"What's taking so long?" came the cold, hard voice of Mason.

"I'm doing my best but they're not here." Mac gripped the walkie-talkie until his knuckles were white.

"Keep looking," Mason ordered.

Mac jammed the walkie-talkie back into the holder on his harness. He leaned over the back of the seats and felt underneath them with one hand. His fingers touched the handle of a case. He pulled it out sending a silver Thermos flask that had been wedged behind it rolling across the floor. The case was made of solid orange plastic with silver metal clasps. Quickly he pulled it onto the seat and flicked up the catches. Despite it not being what he was looking for, his face broke into a broad grin when saw the contents. He began to fill his pockets with an assortment of objects from his treasure trove.

Having taken what he needed, he looked around the interior of the plane. There was nowhere to hide anything else. Then his gaze alighted on the silver flask. Mac frowned. Sam and Stacy were on the run, travelling light so why would they go to the trouble of bringing a flask? Once more he leaned cautiously over the seat-backs stretching his arm towards the flask. The plane creaked ominously but held. He shuffled forward a little more leaning as far forward as he dare. The pain in his side flared as the skin was pulled taut. He could feel beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His fingers touched the flask. He rolled it towards him until he was able to get hold of it. With one swift movement he picked it up and collapsed back onto the rear seats, his breath coming in short sharp gasps as he waited for the burning sensation in his chest to subside. After a few minutes the pain eased and a little of the tension went with it. He opened his eyes and looked at the flask weighing it carefully in his hand. He smiled to himself as he knew he'd found what he was looking for. There was no way that coffee was that heavy.

.


	13. Chapter 13 - Taken by surprise

**Chapter 13 – Taken by surprise**

Zeke listened to the crackle of the static over the satellite phone cursing the useless piece of technology. As he heard Cyrus' voice answer irritably he yelled, "Cyrus, it's Zeke, listen! That guy is not the girl's step-father. No he's not her step-father ... I saw his wallet. His name is Taylor. Mac Taylor. He's a cop!"

He had barely finished uttering the words before he was knocked to the floor, the solid plastic phone flying out of his hand to skitter across the floor towards the sink. Taken totally by surprise he was unable to retaliate but he squirmed under whoever it was that had just barrelled into him. It was, however, to no avail. He was firmly pinned down.

"Stay down!" ordered a voice. "Don't you move!" Zeke wriggled trying to get free as the man on top of him dragged his arms behind his back. He felt a pair of cuffs being snapped onto his wrists. He let loose with a long list of expletives. He felt a sharp smack to the back of his head. "Mind your language. There are ladies present!" The weight lifted and Zeke rolled over to stare up into the face of Don Flack. Don towered over him. "Where is he? Where is Mac Taylor?" His voice was low and threatening and Zeke swallowed nervously under the gaze that said it would like nothing more than to tear him to pieces. He glanced at the other people in the room. The taller of the two women was glaring at him like he dirt under her shoe. He tried to get up but a foot planted itself in the centre of his chest. "I'm not going to ask again. Where is Mac Taylor?"

"I don't know." The pressure from the boot increased. "I swear. I don't know. Cyrus and the others took off yesterday. They've gone looking for the plane but I don't know where they went." His eyes flicked between Jo and Don. The boot didn't move. "The kid said something about a waterfall. That's all I know. I swear."

.

Randall Wade drove as fast as he could. Danny held on tight to the passenger grab handle as the car took the turns with screeching tires. As they pulled onto the straight they could see the helicopter ahead of them. Pulling up on the side of the road they both dashed towards the helicopter.

"Don!" Danny shouted. Don raised a hand and began dragging a sulky but resigned Zeke Dryer towards the squad car. "Have we got a location?"

Don nodded. "Adam's traced the satellite phone this guy was using. He just transmitted us the coordinates." Don pushed Zeke towards Randall Wade who immediately took charge and began reading him his rights. Randall escorted him to the car but before pushing his prisoner into the back of the car he turned to Don and Danny.

"Good Luck."

Danny nodded. "Thank you. For everything." He turned and followed Don to the helicopter where Jo and Lina were waiting. Don made the introductions. "Where are they?"

Jo held out a tablet. She pointed to the map. A small blue circle flashed intermittently on the screen. "The satellite phone indicates they're here just above these falls. We should be there in about twenty minutes." Even before he had done up his seatbelt Danny could hear the change in the motor as the rotors geared up and before he could catch his breath, the chopper lifted off and turned at a sharp angle making his stomach flip. Helicopters were not his favourite mode of transport. Danny watched Randall and the squad car getting smaller. For some reason he couldn't explain he un-holstered and checked his gun before putting it back. He looked at Jo and Don. Their faces were grim. Lina was staring at them wide-eyed as though only then realizing just how dangerous this situation was. Cyrus Mason and Victor Gaunt together with a third man that Zeke had told them was called Casey now knew that Mac was a cop. While they thought he was Hank he had stood a chance. Now it was too late. Danny looked out of the window as the forest below rushed past them and tried to quell the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach which had nothing to do with his current mode of transport.

.

Going down was one thing but going up was something else entirely. Mac leaned his forehead against the rock-face and transferred his weight to his right leg where he had found a good foothold in the rock. His left leg trembled with the exertion and he released his hold to massage his thigh as muscle fatigue set in. The fingers of his right hand were cramping where they curled into a small crevice in the rock so he had to scrabble to find another hold with his left. He rested briefly allowing the stone to cool his burning face and willed the trembling in his thigh to stop. He tried desperately to ignore the wrenching pain in his side and the ache in his arms and shoulders. _What had he been thinking? He was no longer a young man. But he had had no choice. He had to make it back to the top to give Stacy a chance._ He dare not look up. He was too scared even thinking about how far he still had to go. His energy was fast depleting. The first half of the climb had completely exhausted him. Pulling himself back to the rock ledge on a wildly swinging rope had been much more difficult than he had anticipated. Although the climbing kit had included an ascender he was no expert climber and he had no idea how to use it so he had been forced to do it the old-fashioned way, hand over hand but he had felt every inch of the climb and his side had been burning by the time he had made it back to the ledge. He had had barely time to catch his breath before Mason had called him on the walkie-talkie demanding to know what the hell was taking him so long. So despite his exhaustion, after only a few minutes he had started the second half of his climb.

Taking a deep breath and thinking about Stacy he pushed himself onward. He had been glad of the kit around his waist as he now had extra holds and a safety line should he fall. He pushed all thoughts from his head as he looked for the next hold. He curled his fingers into a vertical crevice and gripped hard as he brought his left leg up. He tested the hold and levered himself upward but his running shoes weren't designed for climbing and he lost his footing. His fingers were unable to hold him and he found himself slipping. Fortunately he had tied in only a few feet below so his fall was arrested with a jolt that jarred every bone in his body and sent a shooting pain through his ribs. Not one for cursing even he succumbed to a few choice words. He repositioned himself and began retracing his steps. He pushed every thought from his mind and concentrated on only finding the next hold. And the next. And the next.

The sun was bearing down and he was sweating profusely. As he was forced to pause he looked up and was surprised to see that he hadn't that far to go. He pushed himself onward despite every muscle protesting at the movement. He had to make it back. For Stacy. As he neared the summit he paused, the strange feeling of being watched coming over him. He looked up. Much to his surprise he was only a few feet from the edge. Less of a surprise were the faces of Mason and Jowls as they glared down at him. They waited making no move to assist him. Mac drew on the last ounces of energy and climbed the last few feet stopping just below the edge of the cliff.

In one swift movement Mason lifted the rifle and racked a round into place, the familiar ker-chunk of the bolt making Mac's blood run cold. As he stared into Mason's face he knew that the pretence was over. He was playing a dangerous game but he had no choice. Mac raised his left hand to the rope above him and gripping it firmly, planted both feet against the rock-face and leaned back staring coldly at Mason.

"The diamonds if you please ... Detective Taylor," Mason demanded as his mouth pulled into a smug sneer.

There was little point in denying it so Mac didn't bother to acknowledge the fact that they knew his real identity. "Let Stacy go."

Mason gestured with the rifle. "The diamonds."

"When I know that Stacy is safe."

"How about I shoot you now?" Mason threatened.

Mac nodded imperceptibly as though considering the option and reached a hand behind him to the pack. He pulled out the Thermos flask and held it out over the void. Mason's eyes narrowed. "Let Stacy go or you can kiss your diamonds goodbye." For a moment they stared at one another, each man weighing up the other wondering how far they were prepared to go. Then the tip of the rifle lowered slightly. "Let her go and I'll give you the diamonds." Mason stared daggers at him but then flicked his eyes away and jerked his head.

"Mac?"

Mac felt relief flood through him at the sound of her voice. She appeared in his view still some distance behind Mason and Jowls. Casey had an arm wrapped around her. She stared at him with eyes full of fear. "Stacy. I want you to go. Run as fast as you can and don't stop. Remember what I told you."

"They'll kill you." She pleaded with him but Mac merely smiled.

"I'll be fine. Trust me. Now go." Stacy hesitated but Mac saw Casey release his hold on her and step back. With one last look at Mac, she nodded and disappeared from view. Mac waited his eyes never leaving Casey. As the seconds turned to minutes each man watched the other. Then with the tiniest movement Casey nodded to Mac. Mac fixed his eyes on Mason. "You want your diamonds? Well here you go." And with every ounce of energy left in his body Mac lobbed the flask as hard as he could over Mason's head towards the trees. All three men automatically turned to follow the arc of the flask as it flashed in the sunlight. Mac quickly unclipped the rope from his harness. The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. Mason yelled for Jowls to get the diamonds. As he turned back he screamed at Casey to get after Stacy. Mason pointed the rifle over the edge of the cliff but was stunned to see Mac push away from the cliff face with all his might and sail off into the void. It was some seconds before his brain calculated what was happening and he was able to take aim and fire.

.

Stacy ground to halt as first one shot then another echoed through the forest. She turned back in horror, her breath coming in quick panicky bursts. She was tempted to go back but Mac's words from their journey in the back of the van echoed in her head. _"Stacy, I need you to trust me. If they find out I'm a cop, they'll kill me. They must think I'm Hank and if I let them think that it might buy us enough time to work out an escape plan. But I need you to trust me implicitly. If I say run, you run. Don't look back. You get to the nearest police station and you call Jo Danville. You got that? You call Jo Danville. Promise me. No matter what happens."_ Stacy looked back one last time and with tears in her eyes she turned and she ran. There was only one thought in her head. _Jo Danville._

.

A/N : More tomorrow?


	14. Chapter 14 - Up or Down?

**Chapter 14 – Up or down?**

Adam, Sheldon and Lindsay sat glumly on stools in the break area staring at their half-empty coffee cups. Occasionally a lab tech walked past casting them a wary glance. Rumours spread fast in the lab and rumour was that the boss was in trouble and many feared the worst. Adam suspected that they had organized a rota and that a different person would walk by a regular intervals to see what was going on. Lindsay jiggled her cell phone in her hand wishing it would ring. She was tempted to call Danny again but she knew they were in the air. "What's taking so long?" she muttered half to herself. Neither man replied. Ever since Don had called to say they had one of the men in custody but that the others now knew Mac's true identity a sense of despair had insidiously inched its way into the backs of their minds.

Adam took a half-hearted swig of his coffee and grimaced to find that it had gone cold. Clearly they had been sat there longer than he thought. "It'll be fine. You'll see. Mac's probably got the bad guys rounded up and banged to rights and he's hanging around waiting for them to pick him up." Lindsay gave him a tiny smile in acknowledgement of his valiant effort to cheer her up the they lapsed into silence once more.

.

Mac probably would have felt like clipping Adam round the back of the head if he had heard those words. For he was hanging around. Literally. The theory had been good. The reality not so much so. He had known all along that he was expendable and that as soon as they had the diamonds they would either cut the rope or just shoot him or both. So on his way down he had set up a secondary climb rope that he had clipped to his harness during his ascent. As soon as he had diverted their attention with the flask he had released himself from the main cord and, with a quick prayer, pushed away from the rock-face. As strange as it was, the feeling of free-falling was terrifying yet also somehow exhilarating reminding him of his first parachute jump in the Marines. However, it's abrupt ending wasn't as much fun. As he reached the end of the rope his entire body was jolted so violently that it felt as though all his limbs were being wrenched from their sockets. He had been flung about like a rag doll. He now knew why bungee ropes were elasticated.

As bad as that was it wasn't as bad as what followed. His theory had been to sail past the overhang upstream of the plane and swing back in underneath the rock ledge to protect him from the shots he knew that Mason and Jowls would send in his direction. He knew he would have to use his legs to cushion the swing. That had been the theory. The reality was that his fall was not as controlled as he would have liked. He had correctly calculated the position of the anchors and the length of the rope but the force to which his already battered body was exposed by the sudden stop caused him to tumble out of control and he smacked into the underside of the ledge with a bone-shattering crunch.

When he came to, his brain could only process one thing. Pain. Overwhelming, mind-numbing pain. It seemed to be everywhere. Every inch of his body felt as though it had been struck with a sledgehammer. He focussed on pulling air into his oxygen-starved lungs. Little by little as he grew accustomed to the discomfort two things became clear. One, he wasn't dead as surely being dead couldn't possibly be this painful and two, no one appeared to be shooting at him which he reckoned had to be a good thing. He couldn't hear Mason or the others. He hoped and prayed that he had given Stacy enough time to escape and that they wouldn't pursue her.

In fact all he could hear was the rush of the river below and the beating of his own heart. Slowly he opened his eyes and took stock of his position. He was hanging under the ledge, the river some fifteen feet below him. The undercarriage of the plane was to his left where he could see the missing wheel from the landing gear and he was slowly rotating as he dangled from the rope. The incessant circular movement made his stomach protest and he squeezed his eyes tight in an attempt to calm the nausea.

He lost track of time but, opening his eyes once more, Mac attempted to raise his arms but discovered to his dismay that only his right arm would work. He grabbed at the rope and attempted to right himself to at least stop the gut-churning rotation but the strength in his arm was gone and he let it drop. Instead he used it to explore the reason for his non-functioning left arm. It took less than ten seconds for him to locate the problem. As soon as his fingers touched his shoulder they could feel a large bulge just in front of his shoulder where the humerus had detached itself from the socket. Mac swore softly to himself as he realized there was no way he could climb with a dislocated shoulder. He only had one choice and that was down. He twisted his head to look down at the churning ice-cold water and the jagged rocks below him. _Not good!_

.

Carl twisted round in his seat. "Okay we coming up on the falls now. To your left." Jo and Danny peered out of the window As Don and Lina leaned across, Carl flew them up and over the falls. The view was magnificent. Desperately their eyes scanned the river bank for signs of activity. Carl took them a little higher as the banks closed in on either side of them. "We're nearing the coordinates," Carl shouted. Jo felt as though she was holding her breath. Carl Rogers leaned forward in his seat as he gently guided the chopper upstream. The river fell away below him as he scanned the surrounding area for a clearing where he could set down. A glint of sunlight reflecting off something shiny drew his attention to the bank up to his left. He eased off a little as he approached. "Well, I'll be … There!" he shouted urgently.

Don leaned across Jo his eyes desperately seeking what Carl had seen.

"There! It's the plane!" Danny pointed. "Among those trees at the water's edge. You can just see the tip of the wing sticking up."

"Oh good Lord!" Jo breathed as they neared. They could clearly see a set of ropes trailing down the rock-face and, partially obscured by the trees and bushes at the base of the cliff, the body of a man dangling at the end of it. "Is he alive?"

"I dunno," Danny placed a hand against the pane of glass. "I can't tell. Can you get us closer?"

Carl shook his head. "No but there's a clearing about a mile upstream. The sooner we put down the better." Much to everyone's disappointment he didn't linger but dipped the nose and moved away. Jo felt a light pressure on her arm and she turned to look at Don who looked as sick as she felt. She tried to breathe but felt as though a tight band was pressing against her chest. The few minutes that it took for them to land seemed like an eternity but Carl brought them to a gentle stop and as soon as the skids touched the ground he was already flicking switches to power down the chopper. "Wait until the rotors stop," he ordered as Danny reached for the door.

"Danny, I need you to take some equipment for me, please." Lina looked at Danny who looked at her blankly for a moment before nodding his head in acquiescence. She could see how desperate he was and how pale. "The bag under your seat. " Again he nodded and reached under his seat. Lina yanked open the door and jumped out. "Bring that too." She nodded to a small case affixed to the wall. Danny could see that it was a defibrillator. He grabbed the bag and pulled the defibrillator from its holder and clambered out after her as she hefted a solid looking backpack onto her own shoulders. Don was out and looking around as Jo and Danny climbed down. Carl powered off the motor and joined them hefting a solid looking pack and a sling full of climbing equipment.

Movement at the edge of the trees caused Danny to turn. Squinting into the sinking sun he saw a small figure step out from the shadows. Hampered as he was by the bag and the defibrillator Danny could do nothing but narrow his eyes against the bright sun and peer until she stepped forward. Her long hair was a mess and her tear-streaked face was pale and dirty but she was instantly recognizable. "Stacy!" Jo and the others turned at his cry. The girl jumped visibly at hearing her name and took a step back but quick as a flash Jo stepped forward.

"Stacy! It's all right. We're with the New York Police Department." Stacy shuffled nervously not knowing whether to believe them. She stared at Jo and the gun on her hip and hesitated backing away towards the trees. "Stacy, wait! It's okay. We're here to help you. My name is Jo Danville and ..." Jo was unable to finish her sentence as Stacy's jaw dropped a look of utter amazement on her face.

"Jo? You're Jo?" Suddenly and much to Jo's astonishment Stacy ran towards her and threw her arms around her waist. Jo staggered a little by the surprise gesture. "Mac said you'd come," she mumbled into Jo's jacket. "He said you'd come for us." Don looked at Jo in amazement whose face was showing such a myriad of emotions he wasn't sure what to think. Taken aback by the sudden appearance of Stacy, Don turned away to scan the tree-line in search of Mac but there was no one.

Jo slipped her arms around the trembling young girl. "It's okay Stacy. You're safe now sweetheart. It's going to be all right. We're here. Where's Mac?"

Stacy's eyes filled with tears as she looked up Jo. "He told me to run. He told me to find you," she gulped. "He made me promise. I had to leave … him. He made me … promise. I'm sorry." Jo's heart sank, a feeling of dread coming over her as Stacy's eyes bored into hers. " I think … I think they shot him."

.


	15. Chapter 15 - The Rescue Part One

**Chapter 15 – The Rescue Part One**

Lindsay almost shot out of skin as the phone rang. Her eyes lit up as she saw Danny's picture smiling back at her. She grabbed the phone, her heart in her mouth. "Danny!"

Sheldon and Sid turned around, looking up from the results that had just come in on another case. As though sensing that something was about to happen Adam appeared in the doorway. They all stared at her in anticipation.

"Oh thank God! Are they all right?"

Everyone let out a sigh, a little of the tension draining away at what appeared to be good news.

"Yes … yes … what?" Lindsay's mouth opened in an oh. She paused listening carefully. "But?" The oh widened as did her eyes. Her lips formed a word but no sound came out as she listened. Eventually she said, "Of course, I'll call them right away … okay … bye. Bye."

She looked a little confused as she tried to process the information that Danny had just transmitted. She hesitated for a moment clearly searching for her words. "They've found them," she began silently berating herself for stating the obvious. "Stacy's unhurt. Mac's fine ...well," She hesitated again. "... he's got a dislocated shoulder, a mild concussion, an infected, cauterized gunshot wound, a fractured cheekbone, and multiple contusions and abrasions … but apart from that he's … fine." She finished lamely. Sid, Sheldon and Adam looked at her as though she'd taken leave of her senses. "Er ... I'm going to call Stacy's foster parents and give them the good news." With that parting shot she walked zombie-like past Adam and headed for her office.

Adam turned his head to watch her before looking back at Sheldon and Sid, a look of disbelief on his face. He did an excellent impression of a goldfish before stammering, "How could she … possibly … use the words dislocated, infected, cauterized and fractured in the same sentence as FINE?"

Sheldon's forehead creased into a frown as he gave a small helpless gesture with his hand as tried to figure out how on earth 'cauterized' even made it into the list. Sid pulled a face as he contemplated the question but then he broke into a lop-sided smile. "Well, this is Mac we're talking about." Sid ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I don't know about you but I've had quite enough drama for today. I think I'm in need of a little pick-me-up. Anyone care to join me for a drink?"

Sheldon nodded his mind still dwelling on the 'cauterized'. A drink sounded like a very good idea. "I don't mind if I do."

"How about you Adam?"

Adam smiled at them shyly, pleased to have been included. "Yeah, that'd be great. I'd like that."

Sid clapped his hands together. "Excellent. First round's on me."

.

While Sid and co headed out to celebrate the good news that everyone was 'fine', at their favourite bar, another group were sitting in the less glamorous surroundings of the local hospital cafeteria. Don and Danny were contentedly listening to Carl Rogers and his daughter tell a highly dramatized tale of their daring rescue to Randall Wade who, as he was now off duty, was wearing jeans and a USMC tee-shirt confirming Danny's suspicions that he was another Marine.

Jo was staring out of the window waiting for Alice and Hank Graham to arrive, her mind still full of the events earlier that day:

.

_Stacy's eyes filled with tears as she looked up Jo. "He told me to run. He told me to find you," she gulped. "He made me promise. I had to leave … him. He made me … promise. I'm sorry." Jo's heart sank, a feeling of dread coming over her as Stacy's eyes bored into hers. " I think … I think they shot him."_

Jo felt that she had been punched in the stomach. She didn't seem to be able to breathe. The blood rushed in her ears as she held Stacy in her arms. He couldn't be dead. She squeezed her eyes shut burying her face in Stacy's hair feeling the girl's bitter sobs shudder through her body.

"No! He's not dead." Danny stated vehemently forcing the others to look at him in amazement. He hefted the bag more firmly on his shoulder. "I'm going to find him."

Seeing the determination in his face, the others nodded in agreement. Jo looked down at Stacy who was looking at Danny with a strange expression on her face. Suddenly she pushed away from Jo and angrily scrubbed the tears from her face. She straightened up. "It's this way. I'll show you. Come on." Before Jo could suggest that she remain in the helicopter Stacy set off back towards the trees. Jo rushed after her.

"Stacy wait! What about the men who took you?"

Stacy stopped and looked at Jo. "They're gone. I heard them leave. They've got their stupid diamonds and now they've gone."

Don looked at her in amazement. "Diamonds?"

"That's why they made Mac climb down to the plane. To get their stupid diamonds. They said they'd kill me if he didn't," she spat with a disgusted look on her face. Then she turned and walked determinedly back the way she had come. "Come on," she called without turning. Left with little choice, they followed Stacy through the trees, winding their way along a narrow trail with Carl, Lina, Danny and Don carrying bags of equipment. It took them the best part of thirty minutes to get back to the crash site. As they emerged onto the escarpment above the river they spotted the ropes tied to two trees and fixed to an O-ring, the third rope disappearing over the edge. Various objects were strewn around as though the previous visitors had dumped excess baggage in a hurry. Leaving his bags Danny vaulted over a discarded ruck-sack and ran to the edge, dropping to his knees and gripping the edge as he looked down.

"Mac?" He sounded frantic as his voice was drown out by the sound of river below. "Mac?" There was only silence and the sound of rushing water. Everyone's heart sank. Then a strange electronic squawking sound came from a nearby pack. They all twisted around in search of the odd noise. Danny lifted what looked like a folded tarpaulin. There on the ground was a walkie-talkie. Danny grabbed at it. "Mac?" he asked tentatively.

"Danny?" came a distant voice. Despite the distortion it was clearly Mac's. There was an audible sigh of relief among those gathered at the top of the cliff-face as the faint voice called back to them. "Danny, that you?"

The relief on his face was visible. "Yeah, it's me. I'm here with Don and Jo. Mac can you you make it back up?" Danny asked as he leaned out over the edge searching for any sign of Mac. There was a pause and a burst of static from the walkie-talkie. Don stood over Danny and leaned forward feeling slightly queasy at the sight of the sheer drop to the mass of rocks and vegetation framing the foaming river below. All they could see were the ropes trailing down the rock face and one pulled taut over a large overhang in the rock-face. "Mac?"

Finally a crackly voice answered. "No … need help .."

"He's got to be just underneath that overhang," said Carl. Lina nodded in agreement.

"Danny!" Don pointed to the ground where several shell casings glinted in the late afternoon sun.

Danny raised the walkie-talkie to his lips. "Mac are you injured?"

"Shoulder … dislocated ..." came the faint answer. Danny and Don looked at one another each thinking the same as the other. He didn't sound good. They looked round to where the others were waiting. Jo stood with her arms around Stacy both looking as white as sheets.

Danny gripped the walkie-talkie tighter. "Okay Mac. Hang on. Help's coming." Danny looked around at Carl and Lina who didn't need to wait to be told what to do as they were already opening packs and gearing up.

"Seriously?" They all froze looking at one another in confusion at the word crackled from the device in Danny's hand.

Frowning Danny lifted the walkie-talkie once more. "What?"

There was another crackle and what sounded like a laugh. "Hang on. That's the best … you can … come up with?"

Danny glanced up at Don in disbelief then he realized what he had said. Don, his face breaking into a smile, shook his head in amusement and muttered something that sounded liked 'crazy sonofabitch.' Danny sank onto his heels, some of the stress fading away by Mac's attempt at a joke. He thumbed the speak button. "Funny Mac. Funny."

"Danny?"

"Yeah Mac?"

"Stacy. … you gotta find Stacy."

"It's okay buddy. She's right here with Jo. She's fine." Danny looked up to see Stacy smiling at him. When Danny realized Mac wasn't answering he called again. "Mac?" There was no answer. "Mac? You still with us?"

"Still here … nowhere to go ..."

"Okay." Danny rubbed at his face and handed the walkie-talkie to Carl.

"Mac, my name is Carl Rogers. Lina and I are on our way down to you. We''ll only be a few minutes. Okay?"

"Okay."

Carl handed back the walkie-talkie and nodded to his daughter as she clipped herself to the rope. The others watched as she leaned back over the edge and disappeared down the rock face in several elegant swoops. Don and Danny glanced at each other impressed. Clearly she wasn't joking when she said she could climb before she could walk. Within a few minutes she was down on the ledge and connecting herself to a safety rope. Then she walked to the edge of the overhang, lay down and leaned over. Danny looked up to see that while Jo and Stacy had dropped to their knees and were watching the proceedings nervously Carl was lowered a gear sling over the side of the cliff. He followed it's progression down till it reached the overhang where Lina lay still talking to Mac, all the while wondering how on earth they were going to get him back to safety.

.


	16. Chapter 16 - The Rescue Part two

**Chapter 16 – The Rescue Part Two**

Lina looked down over the edge and tried to mask her horror at the sight of the man dangling below her. His face was battered. Ugly purple, red and yellow-green bruises marred right side of his face. A fresher looking cut along his hairline that was matted with blood explained the unfocussed look in his eyes as he stared back at her. His jeans were dirty and looked as though he had got wet at some point as there was a half-dried tide mark around his mid-thigh. His grey tee-shirt was covered in dried blood down one side and she could just see the thick pad of a field dressing through the torn material. She was amazed to see that somehow he had managed to create a sling from silver duct tape and that his left arm was firmly taped to the waistband of his jeans. His right arm was wrapped around the rope and his right hand held the walkie-talkie in a grip so tight she could see the whites of his knuckles and the livid red marks around his wrist.

She forced a smile. "Hey there Mac. I'm Lina. How are doing? Can you list your injuries for me?"

Mac grimaced as he tried to focus on her face but no matter how he tried he couldn't seem to concentrate. He closed his eyes. "Been … better. Er … shoulder … is dislocated..." Lina wasn't happy. She could see he was struggling. He was clearly exhausted and his attention was wandering. She needed him to focus. She had to keep him talking.

"Okay I need you to lose the walkie-talkie." He didn't move. "Mac!" His eyes flew open at her raised voice. "Lose the walkie-talkie and then I'm going to pass you a … " She broke off as she looked further down spotting a length of orange cord looped around his right foot. "Is that a Prusik?"

Mac put all his effort into answering her question as he fumbled with the walkie-talkie reluctant to just let it go. He attempted a smile. "Er yeah, kind of. Had to stop the spinning. Felt sick … but I only had a paracord knife."

Lisa grinned at him. "Okay I'm not going to ask where you got a paracord knife and a roll of duct tape ..." She glanced up to see her father rappelling down the cliff-face behind her. She willed him to hurry.

Mac huffed. "There was a survival kit in the wreckage. I … " He paused as a wave of nausea rolled over him. He shivered. "... may have purloined one or two items … I thought … might come in useful."

Lina's smile broadened. "Tut tut Detective. Don't tell me you are guilty of looting?"she teased. She was heartened to see him smile.

"Nah, not even a misdemeanour," he quipped.

"Okay Dad's here." Lina sighed with relief as her father joined her. "Mac here has been keeping busy. Constructed himself a sling and a foot Prusik." She gestured down to the orange cord. Although her voice was light and confident the look she gave her father told all he needed to know. They needed to get him out of there. And fast.

Carl looked impressed as he leaned over the edge. "Hey there Mac. I'm Carl. Lina been keeping you entertained?" Quickly Carl tied off. "Looks like you're pretty much ready to haul ass up here." He pulled an item from the gear sling he had lowered earlier and set about fixing a rope to a point just above there heads. Once he was satisfied he handed the clip on the end to Lina. And pulling another piece of webbing arranged it so it hung over the ledge on Mac's left.

Lina lay flat on her stomach leaning as far as she dare without her father holding her legs. "Okay Mac, pass me the end of your daisy chain." Slowly and painfully Mac reached round behind his back and unclipped the end of the length of webbing, the other end of which was tied to his harness. Holding it in his hand with the carabiner just above his fist he reached up the rope as high as he could. Gritting his teeth he pushed his right foot down on the so-called Prusik loop he had constructed from the cord and levered himself up. He could feel Lina's hands fiddle with the carabiner. "Got it." He felt her hands latch around his wrist. The webbing was pulled tight and the pressure on his leg eased as Carl pulled down on his end of the rope. "Grab hold of my wrist. Ready?" Mac nodded. "Go " In one gut-wrenching movement he felt the pressure on his harness lift him up. Lina pulled on his wrist with both hands and he was pulled up towards the ledge. "Okay hold it." Lina shuffled forwards a little and adjusted the Prusik where Mac had attached it to his rope. "Okay Mac, almost there. Press down with your right and you'll find another loop to your left. See it?" Mac nodded again. "Ready? One, two, three ..."

With one huge burst of energy Mac pushed down with his right leg, his leg trembling with the effort and swung the other towards the webbing that Carl had hung down the side. Lina kept a firm grip on his shirt. His head was now almost level with the edge of the overhang and he was able to reach for the ledge. Once he had his feet in both loops he was able to stabilise himself and equalize his weight. They all paused for breath.

"Okay Mac I need you to let go and grab hold of my harness. Then I can adjust the loops for you. One step at a time. Dad will take your weight. Okay?" Mac nodded. "Right then left." Mac shifted his weight accordingly and was able to 'step up' as Lina hitched up the loops one foot at a time with Carl hauling back on the rope. Soon the ledge was at waist height and Mac was able to lean forward. He felt a hand grab his harness and he was pulled onto the ledge. He felt hands roll him over but he was unable to do anything other than breathe.

.

"Mac?" Someone was calling his name. They seemed so far away. An acrid scent filled his nose and he turned away from it. His eyes flickered open and he looked up into a smiling face of a young woman. Her sandy coloured hair was pulled back into a ponytail and her blue eyes were full of concern. "You with us?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good." She gave him a scathing look. He offered a weak smile. "All things considered." He blinked hard and took a deep breath trying to clear his head.

"Yeah, well you gave everyone a helluva scare. Stacy said she heard shots."

Hearing her name was like a slap in the face. With all the effort of getting back to the ledge he had forgotten about Stacy. Guilt washed over him. "Oh God. Stacy, is she all right? She's not hurt?

"It's okay. She's fine. She's with Jo."

Mac couldn't help smiling. "Jo? Jo's here?"

Lina smiled at his reaction. "Yeah, she's here with Danny and Don. They're waiting for you." She pointed upwards. Narrowing his eyes he looked upwards and was just able to make out four faces peering down at him. He raised his arm in a wave. The smaller of the figures began waving furiously and Mac could just hear his name being called.

Awkwardly Mac shuffled himself into a sitting position. He found a strong pair of hands ready to pull him up into a leaning position against the rock wall. Looking up he thanked whoever it was. Carl squatted down beside him and unscrewed the top off a bottle of vile-looking blue liquid. He offered it to Mac. "Energy drink. You're gonna need it." Mac nodded and took it gratefully. He didn't like the taste but energy was one thing he needed right now. "So how are doing Mac?"

"Better."

"Well you're not out of the woods yet ..." Carl broke off with a grin. "Sorry!"

Lina rolled her eyes and Mac laughed. "You've been spending too much time with Danny!"

Lina giggled. "Nah, Dad's always like that." Mac looked between father and daughter, finding it a little easier to focus on their faces now he was no longer dangling from the end of a rope. He could see the family resemblance. They both had the same light blue eyes with grey flecks and similar bone structures though Lina's nose was long and thin where her father's looked like a slab of clay that had been abstractly plastered to the centre of his face but they both had the same infectious grin.

Lina opened a kit and waved a pen-light in his eyes. She took his pulse and blood pressure. "Pretty good all things considering," she commented though she was concerned to see he was running a slight fever. What's that?" She pointed at the dressing under his shirt.

"Gun shot wound," Mac grimaced as he hitched himself a little straighter. "It's only a flesh wound. Nothing to worry about."

"I'll be the judge of that," she announced firmly and she lifted his shirt and carefully peeled away the dressing. "What the …? This isn't fresh. It looks like it's been ..."

"Cauterized," Mac finished for her. "Happened yesterday ..." Or was it the previous day? Mac hesitated for a moment. It seemed such a long time ago. "I think." Father and daughter exchanged horrified looks. Mac took another mouthful of the drink and found that his head was beginning to clear a little. He looked up and could see the others looking down at him though he couldn't see their faces clearly.

"So what do you think?" asked Carl. Lina opened her mouth to answer her father but Mac, whose attention was still focussed on the rock-face above him, didn't realize that the question wasn't directed at him, and answered in her stead.

"Just give me a few minutes and I'll be good to go." He brought his attention back to his two rescuers who were staring at him open-mouthed. "If you could just pop my shoulder back in for me and strap it up."

"Just pop it back ..." Lina's eyes almost popped out of her skull.

Carl couldn't believe his ears. "Mac ..." He gestured upwards. "This isn't an easy climb and you're injured."

"I think we should call the medevac," suggested Lina glancing at her father nervously.

"No." Mac was adamant. "I've climbed this once today. I can do it again … although I may need a little help," he added with a shy smile.

.

The climb had been arduous but he had made it, each slow, agonizing step drawing him closer to Jo and Stacy and Danny and Don. He had gritted his teeth ignoring the pain that flared in his shoulder and side with every movement. Carl had climbed first creating extra hand and foot holds. Then he, Don and Danny had taken up the slack and used every ounce of their strength to take as much of Mac's weight as possible. Lina had climbed a parallel course advising, encouraging, cajoling him. But to everyone's surprise he made it to the top though by the time he did he was gasping for breath, clearly totally and utterly exhausted.

As Don pulled him away from the edge carefully cradling his injured shoulder in his arms, Danny unclipped the rope and helped him out of the harness. Stacy immediately dropped to her knees beside him and threw her arms around his neck. Mac hugged her back, his good arm wrapped tightly around her and buried his face in her hair. "It's okay Stacy. It's over now."

Standing alone, as though rooted to the spot by invisible chains, Jo could do nothing but helplessly watch the four of them. She felt an arm go round her shoulders. Turning her head, Jo found herself looking into Lina's concerned face. Lina smiled her reassurance. Jo tried to smile back but found that she couldn't. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for bringing him back." Lina nodded and turned to look at Mac with a huge sigh of relief. At that moment Jo wanted nothing more than to push them all away and feel his arms around her but instead she remained standing looking down at him feeling as though there was an ocean between them. Then he raised his eyes to hers and the message that she saw in their smoky depths was all she needed to know.

.


	17. Chapter 17 - A little TLC

**Chapter 17 – A little TLC**

Jo was pulled from her thoughts as a car pulled up in front of the hospital and the familiar figure of Alice Graham sprang from the passenger side to head straight for the entrance, her bond curls shining under the floodlights that lit the car park. Jo immediately turned and headed for the door telling the others that the Grahams were there.

Jo intercepted Alice and Hank as they paused in the entrance looking around uncertainly wondering where they should go. Alice's face broke into a huge smile as she spotted Jo. "Jo? She's okay isn't she? Lindsay said they were keeping her under observation. She's not hurt is she?"

Jo found herself enveloped in a spontaneous bear-bug from the effusive woman. "No she's fine but she was a little dehydrated when she was brought in so they decided it was best to keep her in overnight just to make sure and because you weren't here. Also ..." Jo paused for a moment. "... she didn't want to leave Mac."

Hank put a reassuring arm around his wife. "Yes the young woman who phoned … Lindsay?" Jo nodded. "... she said that Mac was injured?"

Jo nodded. "Yes he sustained a few injuries but he's fine." Jo grimaced. She couldn't believe she was saying that. Apparently nor did Alice who harrumphed in indignation setting her corkscrew curls bouncing like springs.

"Mac Taylor would say he was fine even if he was knocking at death's door," she stated waving her hands. Jo's lips twitched in amusement. Alice clearly had Mac summed up. Jo was about to say that she would accompany them to Stacy's room when Alice took her by the arms and, looking her up and down, asked how she was doing. Jo was a little taken-aback. "I'm fine..." she began instantly upbraiding herself for using Mac's favourite phrase. Alice looked at her intently. She could see the dark shadows under her eyes and the lines of worry in her face. For some strange reason Jo felt tears pricking at her eyes. She swallowed. "Now I know they're both safe, I'll be okay." Alice nodded apparently satisfied. "Come on. I'll show you to Stacy's room." Jo led them to the elevators and up to the third floor. As they emerged a young nurse with dark brown hair approached. "Hello Madeleine, these are Stacy's foster parents, Mr and Mrs Graham."

The pretty young woman smiled broadly. "It's nice to meet you. Stacy's in her room. It's this way. She's doing fine and she's feeling a lot better now that we've got some fluids into her. She's had a shower and something to eat. Did you manage to bring her a clean set of clothes?" They both nodded and Hank waved a small bag. "I'm afraid her clothes were in quite a state when she arrived. You'll probably have to trash them." Alice and Hank nodded. "Here we are. Oh and when you have a moment could you call at the nurse's station to complete the paperwork? There's no hurry. Take your time." She gestured towards a doorway. As they entered Stacy looked up from the book she was reading.

"Alice! Hank!"

Jo watched as Alice and Hank rushed across the room and threw their arms around their foster daughter. They remained like that for some minutes each just glad to be able to hold the others in their arms. Jo hovered in the doorway for a moment and then feeling as though she was intruding, she quietly left retracing her steps down the corridor.

.

Jo opened the door quietly and peered into the dimly lit room. She squinted at the shape in the bed as her eyes adjusted from the bright lights of the corridor.

"Hey!"

Jo closed the door quietly and crossed the room surprised to find him awake propped up among what seemed like a dozen pillows. "Hey yourself," she began. "How are you feeling?" She was mortified to feel tears welling up in her eyes. Mac must have heard the tremor in her voice as he stretched out an arm.

"Come here."

Jo sank onto the edge of the bed and felt his good arm wrap around her. Slowly she leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. They sat for a few moments before Jo pulled back to look at him. She winced at the sight of the mass of bruising along the side of his face. Gently she lifted her hand to cup his cheek. She ran a finger over the bristle on his chin.

"You need a shave."

Mac laughed, a soft low rumble that made a shiver tingle down her spine. "Yeah, that could be a bit of a challenge with this." He nodded to his shoulder that was now tightly strapped to his body with a sling.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Well it'll take time to heal. There's no lasting damage just some bruising and swelling. And a minor tear to the rotator cuff."

"A minor tear to the rotator cuff?" Jo gazed at him intently.

"Yeah like I said nothing major." Jo huffed earning herself a glare.

"And that?" She nodded to his side.

"That's nothing major either. Doc cleaned it and has set me on a course of antibiotics. They should clear up the infection in a few days. I'm fine."

Jo shook her head and gave an irritated little mewl of disapproval. "We really have to work on your definition of fine."

Mac smiled and looked into her eyes. It was as though he could read all the raw emotion in them, the worry, the fear, the concern and something else. "Are you all right?"

"Me?" Jo nodded and pulled her lips into a smile. "Of course." She was lying and he knew it.

He wasn't sure what made him him do it but without really thinking he raised his hand to her hair, pulling her towards him and placed a soft gentle kiss on her lips. "Thank you."

Jo gasped despite herself at the touch of his lips on hers. It was so fleeting that for a moment she thought she had imagined it but his soft smile and the unreadable look in his eyes told her that it was real. "What for?" she whispered.

"For coming to find us. For being here. For staying."

.

Mac lifted the cover on the main dish and stared at the supper tray with a frown. Soup, chicken and potatoes and some form of unidentifiable pink mousse that Don was eyeing hopefully. He started on the soup before it got any colder and while he worked out how he was going to manage the chicken with one hand. After a tentative sip of the thick green liquid he discovered that it wasn't too bad. He just hoped no one asked him to identify exactly what it was.

"We processed the bathroom but came up with so many biologicals it would have taken weeks to process." Danny was saying. "Speaking of which, how did you know we'd find that message?"

Mac looked nonchalant. "I didn't but the place was clearly used regularly despite being abandoned. They were empty beer cans, a bottle of tequila with an intact label, and high-grade engine oil that clearly hadn't been there long as well as a lot of cigarette stubs. So I thought who would rendezvous at the back of an abandoned garage in the middle of nowhere for an alcohol fuelled evening that required high-grade engine oil?"

Danny nodded. "Illegal street racers."

Mac smiled smugly. "Saturday night, I was hoping that they'd use it again and see the message."

"Well luckily for you it was Randall Wade out looking for them," Don added.

"Then we got the call about the van. So while I checked it out, Don and Jo came looking for you," Danny explained as he lounged on the end of the bed. He looked at Don to pick up the tale.

"So were just about to check out the cabin ..." Mac couldn't take it any more and, dropping his soup spoon, he handed the dish of pink goo to Don who positively snatched it before scooping up a spare spoon from Mac's tray. Mac rolled his eyes at Jo who was sitting by his side curled up in what she had discovered was a surprisingly comfortable chair. She smiled as she cradled her hands around a cup of steaming tea. "... imagine our surprise when this bike roars up. " Don stuffed a large mouthful of the pink stuff into his mouth with a satisfied '_Mm_'. Mac grimaced wondering what particular combination of synthetic ingredients, artificial sweeteners and lurid food colourings had gone into that particular concoction. Don however didn't seem bothered as he eagerly dipped the spoon in again. Jo sniggered into her tea at the opposing looks of delight and disgust on their faces. "So we sneak after him ..." Another mouthful. "...and I hear him giving your name to Mason so I take him down." Another mouthful.

"He give you anything?" interrupted Mac.

"Mmm. Singing like a baby..." Don assiduously scooped the last of the candy-floss coloured fluff into his mouth and licked his lips like a cat that thinks he should have been given a bigger portion. "...the only problem is he don't know nothing." Mac looked at him in consternation surprised that Zeke Dryer would talk. Don grinned. "Seems you ain't the only head of a crime lab that puts the fear of God into criminals. Just mentioned the name Horatio Caine and the outstanding warrant … something to do with his prints on a gun..." Don started eyeing Mac's chicken and potatoes. Mac surreptitiously pulled his tray a little closer. Having started on the soup he discovered he was actually starving. "So we're hoping you can tell us ..." Don broke off as the door opened.

For a moment there was complete silence. "Visiting hours are over," announced the newcomer in a strident voice. Don and Danny unconsciously straightened up a little as the red-headed woman glared at them. She set an imposing figure being tall and well-padded with long hair pulled tightly back into an elaborate chignon. Her uniform was a pristine white and her name tag gave her name as Deirdre. She folded her arms under her ample bosom and stared pointedly at Danny who decided that maybe he shouldn't be sitting on the bed. He got up and nervously smoothed down the cover. For some strange reason she reminded him of his fifth-grade teacher. He gulped involuntarily and stepped away from the bed.

Don put on his best smile and pointed to the badge on his belt. "Oh but we're..."

"Don't be thinking showing shiny badges will make the slightest bit of difference to me, young man. This is a hospital not an interrogation room. Mr Taylor needs his rest. You may come back tomorrow. Visiting hours are from nine. Not before." Don's smile faded from his face under Deirdre's piercing gaze. He mumbled something incoherent and glanced at Danny. Deirdre unfolded her arms and walked purposefully to the end of the bed to scoop up the chart from it's plastic holder but not before flicking some invisible bit of fluff from the bottom of the bed clearly indicating it had been wilfully deposited there by Danny. She pulled a pen from her pocket and, looking at her watch, noted down the time. She looked up at Don and Danny with a look that would scare the hardiest of souls. "Well?" She pointed to the door with the pen. Don and Danny tried appealing to Mac who was watching the whole scene with an air of mild amusement but he just gazed back at them with benign benevolence. They realized he looked utterly exhausted.

"Er night Mac."

"Night Mac, you take it easy."

They both looked unsure as to whether it was safe to leave him with Deirdre. Jo got up too but Deirdre suddenly metamorphosed from dragon to darling. "Don't get up dear. You can stay with your husband until he's finished his dinner. I think he may be needing a little help with that chicken." She turned to the door on hearing the barely-concealed sniggers emanating from the mouths of Don and Danny as Jo flushed a deep shade of red. The dragon re-emerged. "Out!" she ordered. They almost fell over one another in their eagerness to escape.

Deirdre turned back to Mac, her angel look back in place. "Now then Mr Taylor, I'll leave you to your dinner but I'll be back shortly with your pain medication. How bad is it on a scale of one to ten?"

Mac opened his mouth with a small shake of his head, his lips forming the words "I'm fi ..." He broke off as Dragon Deirdre glared at him. "Five" She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Six ..." he muttered. Dragon Deirdre arched an eyebrow. "… and a half!" She scratched something onto his chart and sailed out of the door.

Mac glanced at Jo who had placed her tea on the table. The smile on her face was spectacular. She picked up his knife and fork. "Shall I cut this up for you … dear?" He laughed in spite of himself.

"Yes please."

.


	18. Chapter 18 - Surprises come in all forms

**Chapter 18 – Surprises come in all forms**

While Danny looked nervously up and down the corridor in search of the dragon despite the fact it was one minute past nine. Don tapped on the door, pushed it open and peered inside. He half expected to see Mac sitting up enjoying breakfast. Or, if he thought about it, it would more likely be Mac sitting up in bed eating breakfast and glowering. Don knew how much he hated hospitals However, Don was surprised to see the room empty. The blinds were up and the early-morning sun streamed into the room. A half-eaten breakfast tray stood on a table next to the hospital bed, the covers of which were thrown back casually revealing crumpled sheets. A large shopping bag with the emblem of a local outlet store stood on top of the bed next to a brand new button down shirt still in it's cellophane wrapper.

"It's safe!" he whispered to Danny and quickly the two men entered closing the door behind them. "Maybe she's off duty." Don added hopefully. They were wondering where Mac was when they noticed the bathroom door that stood ajar at the far side of the room. Their ears caught the sound of running water. Don pointed to the door and was about to announce their presence when a soft feminine voice came from the behind said door.

"_So how is that?"_

"_That's great … in fact, that is fantastic. I've got to say I'm impressed!"_

"_You see I told you I was good."_

The two men froze on the spot.

"_Jo Danville, you are a woman of many talents."_

"_You have no idea."_

Don's eyes turned the size of saucers at the innuendo in her voice as Jo's lilting laughter filled the room. He couldn't help smiling to himself as he wondered what on earth they were doing. A rather wicked thought entered his head but he brushed it aside immediately scolding himself for even thinking such a thing. However, a quick look at Danny who had folded his arms and was rocking back on his heels, his face a picture of unconcealed amusement confirmed that he was thinking along the same lines.

"_I have to admit I haven't had one that good for years."_

"_Oh seriously Mac ..."_

"_No, it's true. I always thought I did a good job myself but this is way better." _

Jo laughed again. _"Well I'm glad because it looks like you're going to need my services for a while yet." _Don could hear Mac clear his throat and give a low rumbling laugh.

"_Well, I'm not going to complain about that."_

"_Now sit still and I'll wipe you off."_

Don was beginning to think that this was a little too much information. He turned to look at Danny who was looking highly amused and was about to suggest they leave when the door behind them opened. Both men almost flattened themselves against the wall. Dragon Deirdre nodded to them curtly, eyeing them as they imagined she would a particular nasty virus. Deirdre marched over to the bed and placed a large white plastic bag on the bed. She transformed back into Darling Deirdre. "Mr Taylor," she called in a sweet sing-song voice. "I've brought your medication and a sling."

Jo stepped out of the bathroom with a white towel over one shoulder and a silver canister in one hand. "Oh Deirdre, bless you. You are an angel." Sounds of teeth brushing came from the bathroom.

Deirdre favoured Jo with her best smile that made Don and Danny wonder what they'd done to deserve such disdain. Don reckoned it was Danny sitting on the bed. Danny reckoned it was Don saying he'd be able to sweet-talk a nurse into letting them stay beyond visiting hours. "You're very welcome ..." She broke off as she stared at the object in Jo's hand. Her mouth opened in a surprised oh! Don's jaw dropped. Danny rocked back on his heels again with a look of astonishment.

Jo waved the cut-throat razor. "Just giving Mac a shave." She tipped her head towards the bathroom door and lowered her voice. "He doesn't do the designer stubble look." Jo rolled her eyes and flipped the razor closed.

"With that?"

Jo gave a wry smile. "My uncle was an old-fashioned barber. He taught me how to use one. I used to help out in the shop during summer break." She tossed the razor and the canister of shaving foam into the bag and picked up the blue checked shirt, ripping off the cellophane.

It was at this point that Danny realized that Mac was clearly getting ready to leave. "Whoa! Wait a minute. You're releasing him?" Deirdre shook her head and shrugged to show her disapproval but it was out of her hands. Jo looked at them rolling her eyes sending him a silent message of '_what did you expect?_'. "Oh come on! You can't be serious?"

"I'm fine." Mac made his appearance at the bathroom door giving them his '_now is not a good time to argue with me_' look.

Don grimaced and Danny looked horrified. In the light of day and standing there wearing only a pair of brand new blue jeans, Mac looked a mess. Facial injuries apart, his left shoulder was encased in a dark blue tight-fitting shoulder strap that extended down to his biceps and was held in place by a wide strap that crossed his chest finishing under his right arm-pit. This contrasted to the white dressings taped to his left side, his right elbow, both wrists and his right hand. Any skin that wasn't covered by bandages sported a multitude of bruises, scrapes and scratches. Danny waved his arms in the air. "Do you have a different definition of the word 'fine' to the rest of us?" Mac arched a disdainful eyebrow pretending to ignore him. "Because in my book fine means quite well or in satisfactory health. That ..." Danny broke off as he gestured towards Mac, his stomach clenching at the state he was in. "...does not look fine to me."

"It's not as bad as it looks," muttered Mac as he held out his hand for the shirt Jo was unbuttoning for him. Jo paused and gave him a scathing look. Deirdre made an audible noise of disapproval and crossed her arms. Mac looked at the four of them a little disconcerted by their glares. "I'm …", he began but caught himself before he said fine again. Good wasn't going to work either. "I'll be okay. I can manage," he finished lamely. Having already lost the argument, Jo caved and held out the shirt gently slipping Mac's injured arm into an unbuttoned sleeve. He patiently waited for her to button it. As he did so he glanced at Don who gave up even attempting at getting Mac to stay in the hospital and decided there was another more fun game to play. Don nudged Danny and then jiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively at the intimate scene. Their reward was seeing Mac blush. At least that's put a little natural colour into his cheeks, thought Don to himself and as an added bonus they had the whole three hour drive back to New York to embarrass Mac further. Don crossed his arms and gave Mac a smug smile. Mac grimaced knowing exactly what his friend was thinking.

Having finished buttoning up the shirt, Jo reached into the bag and pulled out a pair of dark blue suede moccasins. She dropped them onto the floor in front of Mac. Mac stared down at them as though he was studying a rather new, strange and unwelcome life-form. He glanced up at Jo. "Well you can't go back barefoot and these are easier than running shoes. No laces. Besides you didn't exactly give me a lot of time. It's the best I can do on short notice." Mac wasn't convinced but having little choice in the matter he obediently slipped the shoes on. He wiggled his toes surprised to find that they were actually quite soft and comfortable.

He looked at Jo under his lashes, giving her that coy smile she adored so much. "Thanks Jo."

"You're welcome."

"Right, now let me show you how to fit this ..." Deirdre held up a length of blue elasticated fabric.

Mac frowned "Is that really necessary? I've already got a..."

Don was highly amused to see Mac break off mid-sentence under the acid look from his nurse. Clearly Dragon Deirdre was a force to be reckoned with, one that even Mac Taylor wouldn't dare cross. "Sit," she ordered pointing to the bed. Mac decided he had pushed his luck far enough and sat. Deirdre showed Jo how to fix the sling that immobilized Mac's arm to his chest then gave him detailed instructions regarding the medication: painkillers, anti-inflammatories and antibiotics. Mac signed the release forms and Jo placed the forms and the after-care instructions together with letters for his doctor back in New York in the bag with the medication. Mac and Jo thanked Deirdre who wished them well.

"So I guess it's back home then?" Don asked sighing with relief as Deirdre left.

"Erm, I'm afraid not." All three turned towards the door where Randall Wade stood, his hat in his hands. "Detective Taylor, I hate to have to ask this but we have a body. We believe it's one of your abductors and we need you to ID him for us."

.

The city morgue was the same as morgues the world over. It was tucked away in a nondescript street disguised among a bunch of nondescript buildings. It had the same cool clinical interior with the same stainless steel drawers and examination tables with the same smell of death and disinfectant only this one didn't boast quite the same level of technology that Sid was so proud of.

Randall Wade led them into the spartan examination room and introduced them to the M.E., a dour looking man in his mid-forties with precisely trimmed hair and strange quirky little eyebrows that sat uneasily on top of his dark hooded eyes. Mac was a little disconcerted to see the M.E. look him over as though he were trying to determine if Mac's injuries were about to put him on one of the two empty tables.

The M.E. led them over to the third table and lifted the sheet covering the body. "Male, early to mid-forties, cause of death a single gun-shot wound, large calibre, to the upper abdomen. Time of death sometime around eight p.m. yesterday evening." He stood back to let them view the body.

Don and Danny tipped their heads to one side staring at the face with it's distinctive goatee beard, the sutured tops of the Y incision just visible above the sheet.

"Oh dammit!"

They all turned to see a strange expression pass over Mac's face, a mixture of sorrow and regret. He ran a hand through his hair and turned away from them clearly trying to compose himself. For a moment no one said anything as no one could fathom the depth of Mac's reaction.

Randall Wade shuffled nervously wondering if he'd made some gigantic mistake. From what he had been told, he had been pretty certain that this was the other man who had been involved in the abduction and his body had been found alongside one of the minor trails not far from the cabin that the crime scene people had been processing. In order to fill the gaping silence he cleared his throat and began, "We don't have a formal ID as yet. We ran his prints in AFIS but there was no match. We were wondering if you … er ..." He broke off as Mac turned around, his mask of professionalism back in place.

"You won't find his prints in AFIS. I knew him as Casey," Mac began. He stepped back up to the table to look down at Goatee. "But that was an alias. I suggest you run his prints through the federal databases. They'll be able to tell you who he is."

"Federal databases?" The dour little M.E. suddenly looked interested.

Mac nodded. "I think you'll find he was an undercover agent with a federal law enforcement agency. Most probably the FBI."

**END OF PART ONE**

**A/N I do hope you've all enjoyed it so far. Please do come back for part two next week. **

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	19. Chapter 19 - Lost and Found

**A/N : Thank you all so much for the lovely pm's, reviews, follows and favourites. So glad you all enjoyed Part one though I must say I am a little miffed that you all seem to think I know nothing about climbing ... okay so I nothing about climbing but hopefully I got away with it! And apologies to any experts out there! And now on with the story. As with part one there'll be two chapters a day to bring it to a close next weekend.**

**PART TWO**

**Chapter 19 – Lost and Found**

Don wandered down the corridor swinging the large white carrier bag. He wondered if Mac would notice that there was a bag of prawn crackers missing. He wiped his mouth unconsciously as he stopped outside Mac's door. He leaned on the bell for a few seconds and waited. The door behind him opened and two pairs of eyes peered out at him.

"He's not back."

Don turned to face the partially opened door that was held by a chain. He could just make out a halo of white hair above the higher of the two pairs of dark beady eyes. "Hey there Mrs Jacobs." The lower pair of eyes growled at him.

"Mortimer, stop that. It's Mac's friend." Mortimer growled again.

"Mac go out?"

"Yes, this morning." The surprise on Don's face was evident. He looked at his watch despite knowing what time it was. It was gone six. He was about to ask what time when she continued, "Two men came around ten and he left with them. He looked awfully tired. Should he be going out with his arm like that?" She didn't wait for an answer. "He should have been back by now. He works too hard you know!" Don couldn't disagree with that. Again he was about to ask if she recognized the men but she carried on as though reading his mind. "I've never seen the two men before but I reckon they were feds." She almost spat the latter out indicating her dislike of the two men. "Just stalked down the corridor without so much as a by your leave. Almost crushed poor Mortimer didn't they?" Mortimer gave out a short sharp bark as though confirming her statement. "They went in and talked for a bit and then they all left. Anyone would think he was a criminal the way they were treating him marching him off like that. It isn't right is it Mortimer?" Mortimer growled in agreement.

"No it damn well isn't." Don muttered under his breath. "Thanks Mrs Jacobs." The phone was already out of his pocket and dialling by the time he reached the elevator. _Where the hell was he now?_

.

Don paced up and down outside the glass doors only stopping as Jo pulled up. He was surprised to see that she was accompanied by the Chief of Detectives, Al Harrison. Harrison's mouth was drawn into a tight thin line as he nodded to Don. Don fell into step beside Jo as Harrison pushed his way through the glass side door ignoring the main revolving one. He strode straight up to the front desk and slammed his credentials onto the receptionist's desk. The young man jumped visibly. Harrison identified himself and asked for someone called Saunders.

Jo and Don stood a few feet away looking around the nondescript grey lobby with it's marble floor and steel security gates. Several people wandered past eyeing them suspiciously. Jo leaned closer to Don whispering to him in a low voice. "You say he left at ten?" Don nodded. "But that means he's been here over eight hours." Don could hear the tension in her voice. "He's supposed to be on medical leave. The doctor didn't even want him to leave the hospital." Don wasn't surprised and gave an irritated shrug to indicate his disapproval.

They both turned as the elevator doors swished open and an elegant woman in a dark blue suit and crisp white blouse walked over to Harrison. She had a phone pressed to her left ear. She looked annoyed. She extended her right hand to Harrison as she finished the call with a muffled curse. "Al?"

"Audrey?" Harrison took her hand in a brief handshake but they could tell from the tone of his voice that he was far from happy. "What the hell is going on? You want to tell me why two of your agents have brought one of my officers in for questioning without going through me? An officer who I might add should rightly be in a hospital right now."

Audrey Saunders shoved the phone back into her pocket and help up her hands in defence. "Al, take it easy. There's clearly been a misunderstanding." Her tone was conciliatory but she was clearly embarrassed and more than a little irritated. "I asked Agents Wright and Wong to debrief Detective Taylor at the earliest possible opportunity..."

"Debrief?" Don couldn't help blurting out. "For eight hours?" Audrey Saunders jumped clearly surprised by Don's revelation. She looked as though she was about to say something further when she clearly changed her mind and stepped back and gestured towards the elevator.

"If you'll come with me." She turned back to the desk. "Three VIP passes please Jeffrey." The young man scrabbled in a drawer under the desk and handed her the passes. She handed them to Harrison, and Jo and Don asking them to clearly display the passes as well as their shields. She then called the elevator. The doors swished open. To their surprise they only rode the elevator one floor before alighting. They stepped out into a busy office space. A carpeted corridor led away from them in both directions. In the various offices dozens of white-shirted employees tapped away at computers or stood by photocopiers. They all straightened up slightly as they caught sight of Audrey Saunders, one even going to far as to push himself away from the edge of the desk where he had been perched chatting and attempt to hide the can of soda in his hand. Saunders stalked down the corridor followed by her three visitors causing a sea of heads to follow their progress and leaving in their wake numerous pairs of curious eyes and questioning looks.

She led them to the end of the hall where another elevator awaited. She pressed the button to open the doors and ushered them in. Don and Jo exchanged glances as the elevator buttons showed that it only went down. Saunders swiped her badge and hit the button marked B3 and they descended to the lowest floor of the building.

The corridor in the basement was identical to the one above, dark blue carpet, doors on either side, harsh neon lighting except that this corridor was silent and empty. It was impossible to see into the offices on either side as there were no windows. She led them to a door and without knocking flung it open. The two men standing inside spun round. Agents Wright and Wong straightened up as Audrey entered followed by Harrison, Don and Jo. She glared at them before turning her attention to the man sat at the other side of the table.

"Detective Taylor, I'm Special Agent in Charge Audrey Saunders." She walked over to the table that was strewn with files, photographs, hand-written notes on lined paper and oddly an old-fashioned tape recorder. A single plastic cup of water sat in front of Mac. She hesitated as he looked up at her. His face was ashen and the dark rings around his eyes spoke of his utter exhaustion. She didn't say anything else as she was pushed aside by Jo who squatted down by Mac.

"Are you okay?" She grasped his hand to find it cold and clammy. He gave the slightest of nods. Jo stood up and glared at the two agents. "We're leaving."

"But we're ..." Wright began only to be silenced with a withering look from Saunders.

"Detective Taylor?" Saunders began. "I had no idea that you were here. I can only apologise ..."

Mac held up a hand to stop her before pressing down hard on the edge of the desk and pushing himself into a standing position. He turned his attention to Wright and Wong. "I've told you everything I know," he said simply. He looked back at Agent Saunders. "I'm sorry about your agent. He was a good man." Saunders nodded somewhat taken aback at the easy acceptance of her apology.

"He was," she stammered. "Thank you Detective Taylor." For a moment they stared at one another and she thought she could see a glimmer of guilt cross his face. She leaned imperceptibly closer and lowered her voice. "He knew the risks. You did the right thing and we are very grateful for your help."Audrey Saunders looked at the man opposite her. A little of the tension eased from his features. At least she hoped that what it was was.

"Come on Mac. We're leaving." Discretely Jo placed her hand on his back.

For a moment Mac returned his gaze to Wright and Wong who were both looking a little nervous. For a split second she thought he was going to say something but she could feel him tense and as they walked out of the room he whispered to Don. "Don would you be so kind as to get my wallet and phone back for me, please?" He didn't wait for an answer nor did he look back.

.

The ride back to Mac's was silent. Don kept glancing in the rear-view mirror but Mac appeared to the lost in his thoughts as he looked out of the window. Jo met his eyes more than once but neither said anything. They had wisely decided to not to question Mac regarding his detention at the FBI until they were home. The only time he had said anything was when they had emerged from the building. He had paused on the pavement and looked into the sun that was shining down the street and muttered something about how late it was.

Once they had reached Mac's apartment Don had heated up the Chinese take-away while Jo had given Mac his medication and removed the sling for him. As Don brought the food through he was glad to see that a little colour had returned to his friend's face as he and Jo sat sipping drinks but Do couldn't quell the anger that burned inside him.

"They had no right to keep you there," he stated firmly as he passed Mac an open box of chicken chow mein with two chop sticks stuck in it. Jo opted for the beef and onions. Mac nestled the box his left hand close to his stomach and grabbed at the chopsticks lifting a generous mound of noodles to his mouth. "Who do these people think they are? Detaining the head of the crime lab for eight hours. It ain't right!".He plopped himself into a chair opposite them.

Mac grinned as he stabbed the chopsticks back in the box. "Nah, it's wong!" he quipped.

Don huffed irritably. "How can you be so blasé about it?"

Mac shrugged. "They were only doing their job. They lost one of theirs and they're taking it hard. His name was John Silverman." A look of utter sadness passed over Mac's face. "He was married. Two kids," he finished quietly.

Jo laid a hand on his shoulder, her dinner forgotten. "How did you know?"

Mac looked at her. "That he was FBI?" He pulled a face and tipped his head on one side. "I guess looking back, I suspected from the very beginning." He smiled at their surprise. "First thing was that he looked surprised when he stepped out of that alley and pulled a gun on us. I was clearly not who he was expecting but he had no choice but to got along with it. Jowls … I mean Gaunt..." Don and Jo both smiled at his slip. They liked the nickname. "...was clearly calling the shots. I had a feeling Casey … or rather, Silverman didn't really know what was going down. Then during the journey he kept looking at me hard like he was trying to make a decision as to whether he should just turn the gun on Gaunt or not. My suspicions were confirmed when I got shot. He couldn't say anything because Mason was watching his every move but his eyes told me that he was sorry. And he started being more protective of Stacy. I knew for sure just as I began my descent to the plane. He whispered to me it was imperative that Mason got the diamonds and that he'd do everything he could to protect Stacy. He told me to save myself."

Jo smiled. "And you did."

Mac nodded in gratitude. "Stacy okay?"

Jo nodded. "She's a tough kid. She says she ready to go back to school but Alice thinks it will be better to wait till Monday. By the way Randall Wade called earlier today. He said they're going back to the wreckage the day after tomorrow to retrieve her father's body." Mac nodded. A sudden wave of fatigue came over him. "Mac you need to rest." Much to Jo's surprise he nodded, excused himself and left them.

Don watched him go. "He blames himself for what happened to Silverman," he muttered half to himself. Jo shrugged. "I wonder what gave him away."

Jo shrugged again sending her jewellery clinking."Who knows Don? Perhaps the fact that he let Stacy get away or maybe Mason just didn't trust him and was planning to get rid of him as soon as the job was done just as he was planning to get rid of Mac and Stacy."

"Any news on their whereabouts?"

Jo shook her head. "No and given the amount of time Wright and Wong kept Mac, I don't think they know either."

"So what now?"

Jo looked at him for a moment. "Nothing. It's over." They both knew that she was lying. It was far from over.

.


	20. Ch 20 - A little discrete investigation

**Chapter 20 - A little discrete investigation  
**

Adam Ross was a man on a mission.

He jiggled nervously as the doors swooshed open, a gentle ding announcing his arrival on the 35th floor. He poked his head out and looked both ways. All was quiet as it should be at six-thirty on a Friday morning unless there was a big case on. He pushed his neck out a little further. The light was off in Mac's office. The corridor was empty. There was no one there. Gripping his messenger bag tightly, he tumbled out of the elevator and took a few tentative steps and then with a determined look he set off to his lair.

He pushed open the doors and flicked the main lights on in the AV lab. He surveyed his domain. He looked around in pride at the banks of monitors and keyboards. Then he narrowed his eyes as he searched for clues. He had left his favourite wheelie chair pushed tight up against the desk in front of Adelaide. Ah ah! Now it sat two inches away and slightly to the right. Stepping a little closer he could see that Betsy's mouse was no longer aligned with the keyboard but sat at a slight angle. Suspicious, he dropped his bag and crossed over to the printer. He looked around as though expecting to see someone and then bobbing down he counted the stack of sheets of paper in the tray. Twenty-seven. _Ha!_ There were twenty-three sheets missing since last night.

_Someone had definitely been in his lab!_

Adam punched the air. He had been right. Someone was the using the lab after hours and had been, he suspected, for the last three or four nights. He scooped up his bag and crossed over to Betsy. Fishing out a pair of gloves he pulled them on with all the finesse of a surgeon preparing to operate. He hit the button to switch on the monitor and then carefully moved the mouse towards him away from the keyboard. He studied it for a moment and then pulled a brush and a small pot from his bag. He carefully dusted the mouse button before extracting a clear two inch square of film. Pulling back the protective covering he placed the sticky plastic on the mouse and lifted a print. He closed it up and held it up to the light.

"Gotcha!"

He pulled the mobile AFIS module that he had 'borrowed' from storage and placed the print on the screen. He punched the button, laid the device on the desk and waited. Betsy's screen burst into life. Quickly his fingers skimmed over the keyboard.

"So baby..." he purred. "...what's our little midnight visitor been looking for?"

Several windows opened. He skimmed through the temporary internet files first. It had been wiped clean. No activity since nine thirty-eight the previous evening when he had logged off. He checked disk usage which indicated that there had indeed been a lot of use since then.

"So you think you can hide from me huh?" He was about to check the down-loaded files and the system cache when the AFIS module bleeped. "Okay let's see who you are?" He had rather suspected Lionel from Trace but Adam's eyes went wide when he saw the result. He blinked but the same name flashed up at him accusingly.

Mac Taylor.

"What the ..?" Adam frowned. The boss was supposed to be on sick leave till Monday but even so he'd still been in a few times to sign paperwork and review their current cases though Jo had shooed him home each time if he tried to stay for more than a couple of hours. So what was he doing sneaking back into the lab after hours and running sophisticated searches?

Adam knew that nothing was ever really deleted. Curiosity got the better of him and guiltily he set about restoring the data. A little over an hour and a half later Adam sat with two dozen sheets of paper scattered on the table in front of him and a dazed expression on his face. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear Jo come in.

"Hey Adam, you're in early."

Adam shot out of his skin. "Oh hey Jo .. yeah … I … er … I ..." He looked back at the last sheet of paper in his hand, indecision written all over his face.

Jo tipped her head to one side, concern furrowing her brow. "Adam, is everything okay?"

Adam stood up jiggling nervously from one foot to the other. "Yeah … well no … I mean ..." He paused as he took a deep breath. "Look I wasn't … spying on him or anything. Really. I just noticed that someone had been in my lab … I mean .. the lab … after hours using … my … the computers. Not that I mind necessarily ..." He looked at Jo who was looking confused. "All right I do mind someone using my computers. They're very sensitive and I ... so the thing is … I came in early to check who it was and ..." He paused, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish.

Jo looked at Adam and then at the fingerprint dusting kit lying on the desk next to the mouse. "You dusted the computer for prints?" she asked incredulous. Adam looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Suddenly her face broke into a huge grin and the tiny room was filled with tinkling laughter. "Oh Adam!"

Adam rolled his eyes. "Yeah I know but … the thing is you see is ..." He broke off suddenly not sure what to do. _Should he tell? Should he rat on his boss?_ He looked down at the paper in his hand and lifted his eyes to Jo's looking at her under his long lashes. "You won't get mad, will you?" he asked shyly.

"Mad?" Jo gawked. "Why would I get …." She narrowed her eyes. A niggling suspicion crept into her mind. Her eyes took in all the computer screens and the results of the searches that Adam had recovered displayed there for all to see. They widened as they recognized a photograph of a younger-looking Victor Gaunt. "Adam! Please tell me he hasn't ... " Adam flushed a bright red and looked guilty. Jo let out a short bark of frustration and threw her hands in the air setting her jewellery jingling like warning bells. Adam flinched slightly just in case she got mad and took it out on him. Her in-take of breath was audible and she continued in a tightly-controlled even tone. "What has he been doing?"

"Er … he's been checking out tattoos and … er … boxing clubs and … er … flight schedules." Adam looked nervously down at the paper in his hands. Before he could say anything else the paper was snatched away.

" What the ..." Jo stared at the paper. She looked up at Adam. "I'm going to kill him," she declared and with that she turned on her heel and stormed out of the lab leaving a bemused looking Adam standing forlornly among his girls. He sighed. Mac was so screwed.

.

A large woman in a brightly coloured floral dress pushed her way down the aisle forcing Amy to squeeze up against the man she was helping, not that she was complaining. He was wearing a rather seductive cologne and he had a lovely smile. Besides she had a soft spot for men who looked like they needed a little TLC. She could help noticing a half-healed scar along his right cheek, scars on wrists and hands and a dark blue bandage that poked out from under the left sleeve of his black tee-shirt. The woman in the floral dress waddled her way down the aisle allowing them to step back. Amy waited as he pulled a tablet computer from the bag then she helped him lift the bag into the overhead locker and she took the opportunity to breath in a little more of that delicious spicy cologne. He gave her another shy smile which she gladly returned. He peered at his boarding card. "I'm afraid you have the middle seat," she commented apologetically. Mac nodded already resigned to that fact as he had made a late booking but at least it was against the bulkhead which meant there was no one in front of him. Amy smiled at him and turned away to help a mother with an over-excited toddler. Mac scooted across and seated himself hoping that he wouldn't be surrounded by screaming babies.

He had left the tablet in standby so he pressed the on button ready to close it down for take-off. As the screen flickered to life he stared down at the men in the picture. A boxing ring stood in the background and the half dozen or so men were gathered in a traditional pose, two holding up a trophy and the others either positioned to the side with their gloved hands raised in a fighting stance or kneeling in front holding the club's banner. Mac's face was grim as he focussed on two of the men. One was young Victor Gaunt positioned to the right of the group his face drawn into a snarl and the other kneeling in front of him with a similar expression of arrogant triumph, his cousin Ryan. A shadow fell across the screen causing Mac to glance up. He did a double take. His eyes widened and his lips opened in surprise. The woman preparing to seat herself to his left glared at him icily. She stowed her bag in the overhead locker, placed her purse on the floor against the bulkhead and slid elegantly into the seat next him. Mac opened his mouth to speak but before he could say anything the three seats rocked as someone threw themselves heavily into the right-hand seat.

"Do you suppose they serve food on this flight?"

Mac's head spun 180 degrees faster than it should causing a sharp stinging pain to ripple down his neck to his shoulder. The astonishment on his face was plain to see.

"Oh Don, is that all you ever think of? You've only just had coffee and doughnuts." Jo admonished with a wave of her bejewelled hand.

"Oh come on that was ages ago." Don moaned. "Besides you know I have a very active metabolism. Maybe I could ask the flight attendant" As though hearing him Amy made a reappearance ignoring him but smiling sweetly at Mac and asking him in a quiet almost seductive voice if there was anything he needed. Don raised an eyebrow. Mac was about to answer when he felt a hand on his leg. Not a tap to catch his attention, not a friendly pat of reassurance, not a caress of affection but a more intimate gesture. It was a hand that burned through the material of his jeans to the skin of his thigh. It was a hand that communicated just one word. _Mine_.

"Oh no thank you. We're just fine aren't we … dear?" Jo returned the younger woman's smile which faded a little, her disappointment obvious. She nodded politely, favoured Don with a smile and moved back up the plane. Don didn't bother to hide his amused grin at the look on Mac's face. He had to hand it to Jo. She was magnificent.

Don made a show of fastening his seat belt before leaning back, folding his arms and turned to his two companions. His face took on a confused look but his eyes sparkled with amusement. "So tell me again ..." Jo turned to look across at him. "... why exactly are we going to Mississippi?"

"That, my dear Don, is a very good question."

Mac could feel her eyes boring into him. The hand didn't move. He closed him eyes and sighed. He was so screwed.

.

More tomorrow!


	21. Chapter 21 - A Very Unusual Team

**Chapter 21 – A very unusual team**

After a change of planes and six hours travelling they finally arrived at Jackson Evers Airport, Mississippi. Don and Jo followed Mac from the plane and were surprised to see a welcoming committee waiting for them. Don grimaced.

"Not them again."

Jo couldn't say she was happy to see Wright and Wong again. However they were both surprised at what followed. Somehow the tables seemed to have turned. Special Agent Wright immediately stuck out a hand. "Detective Taylor, we got your message Sir and we have transportation waiting." He turned to acknowledge Don and Jo clearly more than a little surprised to see them. "If you'll follow me. We have accommodation arranged a few miles from the rendezvous. I've got men sitting on it as we speak. There's been no activity since we last spoke." Mac, Don and Jo followed the two agents through the airport to a side door which gave onto a small private parking lot where two anonymous looking cars were waiting for them. Wright and Wong took the first car while the driver of the second rushed to grab their bags. Don took the passenger seat while Jo and Mac took the rear of the car. No sooner were they seated than Don twisted round in his seat to look at Mac questioningly. Mac's eyes flitted between him and Jo who was looking almost as mystified.

"What?" he asked. "You didn't think I was going to take on Cyrus Mason, Victor Gaunt and an entire gun-running operation by myself did you?"

Don and Jo gave wry laughs and settled in for the ride. It would be dark by the time they arrived and it looked like it was going to be a long night. Conversation was kept to a minimum during the drive, each lost in their own thoughts as they processed the information that Mac had related during the flight. Don couldn't help being impressed by Mac's capacity for noticing details and putting two and two together. A tattoo on Victor Gaunt's arm had led Mac to boxing club in Miami. A background check had shown that one of the other members was Gaunt's cousin Ryan, a former Marine who had left to work in the private sector as a military contractor. Through some military contacts that Mac was particularly vague about Don learned that Ryan Gaunt was currently in charge of a facility designed to train army, navy and marine units in simulated combat conditions. The tone with which Mac said it led Don to believe that he meant special forces training but he refused to be drawn any further.

It was indeed dark by the time they arrived. The motel seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was your typical Mom and Pop establishment that looked as though it had been built in the seventies. Set back from the road it boasted a flickering neon sign, two rows of doors set at right-angles comprising a dozen or so rooms, a house for the owners that also served as reception and a diner which, much to Don's disappointment, was already closed for the night. Don unfolded himself from the front seat. The late night air was chill and he shivered after the warmth of the car. They retrieved their bags and followed the two FBI agents into the reception. As he expected Pop was behind the desk. He was in his sixties with greying hair and sported a red checked shirt and a large moustache. He nodded a greeting clearly not surprised to see this many new arrivals late at night. Don, however, was surprised to see a large lobby that doubled as a breakfast room. It confirmed his impression that the place had been built in the seventies. Everything was orange, brown and old gold. The two worn but clean couches and three armchairs were all occupied by four men and a woman who were evidently waiting on them as they all sat a little straighter the minute they walked in. Two of the men were clearly FBI. Don frowned at the other three not sure what to think. _Military_? The oldest of them, a solid man with a tight brush of sandy hair and a weather-beaten craggy face stood and crossed the room in a couple of strides.

"Mac Taylor! You crazy sonofabitch!"

Mac grinned and shook his head in amusement. "Hello Harry. It's been a while." The two men shook hands warmly.

Harry Fisher clapped Mac on the shoulder and looked him up and down, eyeing the fading scars on his face and arms with a professional eye. "What the hell you been up to? You look like shit!"

Mac huffed. "Let's just say the last week or so hasn't been a walk in the park." Harry arched an eyebrow but didn't say more. "Let me introduce you. Detectives Jo Danville and Don Flack. Jo Don, this is a good friend, Harry Fisher. He's with USMC CID."

_Military Police_. That explained it. Don smiled as he shook hands. Harry introduced them to his two colleagues, Steve Briggs a solidly built African American who had a broad grin and a grip like a vice. Don just managed to refrain from wincing when they shook hands. And Kate Moore, a taciturn woman who did little more than nod though Don began to fear for his fingers as he discovered her grip was as firm as Steve's.

Then Agent Wright introduced them to his team. Agents Roach and Garrett who Don happily learned were called Ben and Jerry. Both men were around 5' 11'', short cropped hair and had the same stern expression that clearly stated the FBI didn't have a sense of humour. Don however was pleased to discover that Steve did as he smothered a snigger at the same as Don earning himself a dig in the ribs from Kate which matched the one Jo gave him. Wright explained that he had two more men, O'Neill and Watson out on duty. Don was disappointed that they turned out be called Nigel and Otis which ruined his theory on partner naming in the FBI.

As they settled down in the lounge, a swing door opened and a small rotund woman emerged with the largest coffee-pot Don had ever seen. She set it firmly on a large wooden sideboard that was clearly the breakfast bar. "Thought you folks might like coffee," she announced in a voice that gave them the impression she wouldn't take no for an answer. She whirled away and came back with a tray laden with cups, cream and sugar and much to Don's joy a large basket of freshly made muffins. No sooner had she put them down and than he and Steve edged closer to grab one. Kate Moore who was sat opposite Jo caught her eye and rolled them heavenwards indicating that clearly Steve and Don had another thing in common apart from their dry sense of humour. Don poured coffee for Jo and Mac and they got down to business.

Agent Wright cleared his throat. "I take it our agreement still stands," he asked tentatively. Jo arched an eyebrow wondering exactly what agreement Mac had made and when. The atmosphere bristled with tension as it always did when rival agencies sat down together. Jo wondered who was going to take the lead.

"That's correct," Mac began. "This is a joint operation. We each have a stake in the outcome." Mac looked around at the assembled company. "The FBI want Cyrus Mason and his organisation. CID wants Ryan Gaunt and his suppliers, the NYPD wants Victor Gaunt and we all want to prevent a terrorist attack on American soil." The tension in the air was almost palpable. "Now to ensure we're all on the same page here's what we know so far." Everyone leaned forward imperceptibly hanging on his every word.

"Mason and Gaunt have gone to ground but, according to Agent Wright, other known associates have suddenly gone off the grid too." Mac looked at Wright.

He nodded as Wong passed out sheets of paper. "These are the men we suspect of helping him. We have tails on two of them. They are holed up in a motel about twenty miles from here. So far they're keeping a low profile, sticking to their rooms, ordering pizza. They're waiting for something." Everyone studied the sheets with nine photographs, some police mug shots, others snapped in the street. Each picture had a name and a brief description. Jo shuddered. They all looked like hard men. "Local PD are discretely checking other motels in the area for the others."

"Our belief is..." Mac continued. "...that they will rendezvous at the Centre for the deal. Mason must have had someone ready to cut the diamonds or he's already sold them and got cash. The evidence indicates that Mason is sourcing his arms through Ryan and Victor Gaunt." Mac nodded at Harry Fisher.

"Ryan Gaunt is licensed to purchase arms for training purposes for use at the Centre. He has purchased army surplus and forged ties with a number of Army and USMC supply depots around the country." Fisher looked uncomfortable for a moment but continued. "To cut a long story short let's just say we discovered that over the past year he has purchased far more than the Centre should need for training purposes and that in the weeks following his purchases stock checks revealed large numbers of missing items."

"What kind of things?" asked Don.

Harry grimaced and nodded to Kate. Apparently from memory she reeled off a list of weapons and ammunition that would make anyone wanting to start a small war very happy indeed. Everyone in the room cringed when, in addition to handguns and rifles, she mentioned land-mines, grenade launchers and anti-personnel mines.

There was a moment's silence then Harry continued. "We currently have a quartermaster under lock and key who has admitted to passing weapons destined for destruction to Gaunt. He was promised an additional fifty percent if he could deliver by this week. Whatever is happening, it's going down soon."

There was a pause as Wright's phone rang. He took the call, listened intently for a moment then hung up. "It's definitely going down here. Local PD says they've formally identified three more of Mason's men holed up in a hotel about twelve miles north of the Centre."

"Any news from there?" asked Mac.

Wong shook his head. "It's all quiet. Ryan Gaunt is there. He has accommodation at the site as do four of his instructors but there's no sign of them. The others are family men and come in from the nearby town. I don't think they're involved in any of this. I spoke with the local police chief earlier this evening. He said that one of the families has gone away on vacation and the other two were out enjoying a barbecue. His deputy knows one of the families well. He stopped by to have a casual chat and he says that they were all suddenly given a week off. No explanation."

"Sounds like Gaunt wants them out of the way," commented Steve. "It's got to be going down this weekend."

Mac nodded. "That's what we think, mostly likely tomorrow night or perhaps the day after." He straightened up. "So get some rest. We'll gather again tomorrow at oh eight hundred." There was a general shuffling and Kate, Steve and the FBI men stood up. Pop who had been discretely lurking by the counter took this as a sign they were heading to bed and shuffled over with a set of keys. He proffered them to Mac who, after a quick glance, handed one to Jo and one to Don.

Jo took hers with trepidation. Something didn't feel right but she couldn't put her finger on it. They began filing out of the lounge. She watched Mac pick up his bag and sling it over his shoulder then it struck her. He was carrying his army kit bag and he had slipped back into military terminology. She watched as he and Harry Fisher wandered outside, their heads bent in quiet conversation. Her sensation of disquietude deepened. She had a feeling that this wasn't going to be the usual run-of-the-mill take down. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to see Don at her shoulder.

"It'll be okay. You'll see."

She hoped he was right.

.

Jo made her way to her room. Mac and Harry were still stood in the cold night air deep in conversation. She slipped the key in the lock and entered, closing the door quietly behind her. The room was plain but clean. There was a double bed with a deep blue counterpane on her right, set against a bed-head with built in lamps and radio. In front of the window sat an armchair and a small coffee table. An ancient-looking television was bolted to a shelf high on the wall opposite the bed. No remote control. Jo crossed over to one of the doors opposite. She pushed it open to discover a tiny bathroom. There was a plain white bath with a shower, a washbasin and a lavatory. There was a strong smell of disinfectant. The only decoration was the dark blue shower curtain and a tiny basket containing a miniature bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo. Jo dumped her bag on the bed and pulled back the old-fashioned counterpane. The sheets underneath were white and starched. Not exactly the height of luxury. She sighed and dropped onto the corner of the bed, a sudden wave of loneliness coming over her.

An odd noise attracted her attention. She looked up. There was a strange scratching sound coming from the other side of a door that stood at right-angles to the closet and the bathroom. Curious she crossed over and pulled at the handle. It was locked. A voice from the other side told her to use her key. She retrieved the key, turned it in the lock and opened the door. Mac was leaning nonchalantly against the door at the other side. He had the most wicked smile on his face.

"Fancy that! Adjoining rooms!"

.


	22. Chapter 22 - Developments

******Chapter 22 - Developments**

She didn't know what time it was when she woke. She rolled over to see the watery sunlight peeping in through the blinds. Mac was propped up against the pillows, his right arm crooked behind his head. He was just staring into space. She suspected he had been awake for some time. Shivering she snuggled a little closer glad of his warmth. He slipped his arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder, her fingers tracing the line of the dark blue bandage that crossed his chest.

"What time is it?"

"A little after six."

"Did you sleep?"

"Enough."

Jo raised her head and looked at him. "You don't have to do this ..."

"Jo!"

"It doesn't have to be you," she pleaded. She saw a brief look of regret cross his face. He raised his left hand and cupped her face running his thumb across her cheekbone. He lowered his head burying his face in her hair.

"I have to do this," he said simply.

"Promise me you'll be careful." He pulled away slightly looking deep into eyes. It took her breath away like he was looking into her very soul. "Mac ..." Her words were cut off as his lips found hers. They probed gently exploring hers. He ran his hand through her hair allowing the long silky tresses to slip through his fingers. Her breathing quickened and he deepened the kiss. She felt him shift his weight and they rolled over, his lips still on hers. Just as she wished that the kiss would never stop, it did but only to be be replaced with his lips on her throat. His hand slid down pushing away the stiff white sheet. She shivered as her skin came into contact with the cool morning air and shivered again as his hand caressed her waist, her hip, her thighs. His arms tightened around her, as though he never wanted to let her go. She could feel his desire, his longing, his need. Little by little her fears melted away as her senses were overcome. The world beyond the four walls of the plain little motel room became non-existent as though they were the only two living beings on the planet. For them time had stopped. Nothing else mattered.

.

She must have dozed for when she woke again she was alone. She reached over to the pillow still dented from where his head lay. It was cold but she could smell the faint trace of his cologne. She pulled the pillow towards her and hugged it tight, burying her face in the cotton folds as though to hang onto the last traces of him. She gripped it until her knuckles turned white and she prayed that today wouldn't happen but even as she did, she knew that nothing would prevent what was coming. A hot scalding tear made it's way down her cheek as she remembered he hadn't said the word 'promise'.

.

It was a little before eight when she arrived in the lobby where they had sat the previous evening. The sideboard had been cleaned and it held the large coffee-pot, a curl of steam escaping from the spout with clean cups, fresh milk and sugar. Two unfamiliar faces who she took to be O'Neill and Watson were helping themselves to pastries from the large basket. She guessed that Ben and Jerry had replaced them staking-out the Centre. She felt a presence at her side.

"We'd better get in there before the Feds eat all the breakfast," Flack whispered. "You must be starving after last night!"

Jo felt her cheeks flush. Her words caught in her throat as she stared at him not knowing what to say. _He couldn't possibly have heard her could he?_

Don looked at her in surprise. "Oh come on Jo, even you have to be hungry after that pathetic excuse for a meal they served on the flight. And we only got a muffin for dinner!" he moaned feeling slightly guilty that he had snagged an extra two on his way out when the others weren't looking. "Oh no, here are the others. You know how much those army folk eat. Come on."

Jo sighed with relief at her false assumption and followed him over to the breakfast table where they introduced themselves to O'Neill and Watson. Brief pleasantries were exchanged as everyone filled coffee cups and grabbed pastries. A sudden silence fell over the room as the three team leaders entered.

"Oh you've got to be kiddin' me," muttered Don half to himself. Jo felt her stomach tighten and suddenly the apple pastry in her hand didn't seem so appetizing any more. Agent Wright, dressed in full assault gear took a large plan and spread it out on the table. He motioned for everyone to sit down. Even as she sat she was unable to take her eyes off Mac. He and Harry Fisher were both dressed in BDUs. Both were fully armed including rifles and hand-guns and what appeared to be a host of other items stuffed into pockets or clipped to their belts.

Wright addressed the assembled crowd: "There have been developments. Mason's associates all left their respective hotels an hour ago. They're rendezvousing at the centre. Approximately twenty minutes ago a large unmarked truck rolled in through the gates and drove around the back. It looks like they're preparing to load up. There is still no sign of Cyrus Mason or Victor Gaunt. Nor of the buyers." He pointed to the map. "However as you can see the terrain is extensive and heavily wooded in certain areas." A heavy red line had been drawn around the edge of the property. Jo estimated that it covered a little over six square miles. It was bound on it's western edge by a river that wound it's way through woodland, several small tributaries feeding into it on it's northern route. The northern and eastern edges had small country roads surrounded by trees. The road to the south was slightly larger and showed an entrance, a short stubby road that suddenly ended in the middle of nothing. There were no markings inside the boundary but someone had pencilled in four small rectangles near the entrance, the right most two joined together in the form of a capital tee.

Don pointed out the obvious. "Why doesn't the map give further detail?"

"Classified. It was a former military installation." Wright pointed to the two leftmost of the rectangles. This is the instructors accommodation, two floors, apartments on the top, offices and catering facilities on the bottom. Next to it is a large garage that can hold up to four cars and parking for another six. This other building is used for training." He indicated the short stubby part of the tee. "These are classrooms and a dining room. Again the accommodation is on the top floor. We believe the other part of the building is a gym. We're not sure of the rest of the layout." He pointed to the empty space behind the pencil drawn buildings. He looked pointedly at Mac and Harry and laid a pencil on the map.

Mac nodded and knelt by the side of the table. Quickly he sketched in an area with a dozen or so buildings to the north and east. "This is The Village, for urban combat scenarios. They're mostly shells or plywood fronts, a bit like a film set but some have stairs and fitted interiors." Then he drew a rough circle to the west. "This is the arena, for hand to hand combat training. The area north of this is heavily planted designed for jungle warfare scenarios." His eyes flickered briefly towards Harry. "There are ..." He paused before the pencil drew two rectangles close to one another. "... two structures … kill houses. Here and here."

"Kill houses?" Don didn't like the sound of this.

"They're actually warehouses, the interiors of which can be redesigned to simulate particular buildings for hostage situations or hostile action. This area is primarily used for SERE training"

"SERE?"

"Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape." Mac met his eye for few seconds and Don got the feeling that Mac was speaking from experience. Mac stood. "Anyway we need more intel than we have at present. We have to have confirmed sightings that Mason and Gaunt are present. We need feet on the ground."

Wright suddenly took over. "Wong, O'Neill, Watson, you're with me. We're going to join Roach and Garrett here." He pointed to position just west of the main entrance. "We constitute Team A. When the call comes we're going to take the main accommodation block. Detectives Danville and Flack, I'd like you to join Sergeant Briggs and Sergeant Moore. You'll be Team B under the command of Major Fisher here. It is your job to secure the training facility. You'll be approaching from the east. There's plenty of cover until you're virtually on top of the building. You'll need to hunker down here until the call." He stabbed a finger on the woodland to the east of the capital tee. "Just south of the Centre there's a camp ground. It's currently closed. Local PD are stationing units there. They will secure the front of the premises and parking garages. No one will be going out that way. All communications will be through the team leaders." He indicated a microphone at his throat. "Questions?"

Steve raised a finger. "Who's making the call?" His eyes flicked from Wright to Harry.

Harry grinned. "Our feet on the ground." He turned to Mac. "After all there's only one Recon Marine here. It would be a shame to waste his talents."

Steve looked impressed. Don grimaced. "Oh man! You're going lone wolf again aren't you?" Mac didn't say anything but he could feel Jo's eyes on him.

Harry laughed and dug a hand into his pocket. He pulled out a small plastic pot and tossed it to Mac who caught it one-handed laughing as he saw the label. "I take it you do remember how to put on camo make-up don't you?" he teased. Mac shook his head in amusement and headed for the door.

Just as he was about to step out he took a last look at Jo. The merest hint of a smile tugged at his lips but before she could return it he was gone and she finally let out the breath she had been holding.

.

**A/N : Note to Kay. There it is. Jac fluffy stuff. Happy now? ;-) Action coming up tomorrow.**


	23. Chapter 23 - Feet on the ground

**Chapter 23 – Feet on the Ground**

Th day was overcast with a slight chill in the air as Mac made his way quietly through the trees approaching the main complex from the north west. The trees began to thin out and he caught a glimpse of buildings through the branches. He paused and listened carefully. All he could hear were the sounds of the breeze in the trees, the rustle of leaves as some small creature took shelter and his own breathing. He crept forward slowly then dropped to his stomach crawling the rest of the way on elbows and toes. Pausing at the edge of woods he parted the long grass and peered across the open area of ground referred to as the arena. It was a natural dip in the landscape in the form of an oval. As such he found himself with an open view of the backs of the main buildings. Two men dressed in dark colours were patrolling back and forth. He pulled a scope from his pocket and put it to his eye. They were two of Mason's men both armed with rifles. They looked bored. One of them yawned. Mac frowned. There was no sign of the truck that the FBI men had said they saw arrive earlier but a Jeep was parked by the back door to the smaller of the two buildings, the trainer's accommodation. He scanned the back of the buildings. There was no sign of movement but there were cameras.

"Dammit," he muttered to himself. There was no way he could make it across there without being seen. Also there was no way the others could launch a raid without the Mason and his men being forewarned. They would need a diversion.

Suddenly the door opened and a figure stepped out. Mac raised the scope to his eye and focussed on the man who stood there. He was older than in the picture but it was definitely Ryan Gaunt. He turned and spoke to someone inside then he made his way round to the driver's side of the Jeep. A second figure stepped out and looked around. Mac gave a snort of triumph. Victor Gaunt. For a moment it seemed that Gaunt was looking straight at him but Mac didn't move. He knew he was well hidden. Gaunt joined in cousin in the Jeep and they took off, not south towards the entrance gate of the Centre but north along a small track that hugged the tree-line on the opposite side of the arena.

_Now where are you two going?_

Mac stowed the scope and reverse-crawled the way he had come. He kept low for several yards until he had enough cover to ensure that he couldn't be spotted by the cameras. Then he rose and set off at a gentle jog holding a parallel course to that taken by the Gaunt cousins. If it had been under different circumstances he would have enjoyed the exercise. The going was soft, his footfalls cushioned by a thick layer of rotted leaves. The sun was trying hard to break through but not succeeding. There was all pervading damp in the air and Mac was glad that he was out of the chill breeze among the trees. He barely broke into a sweat as this was little different from his usual daily run.

It was the smell of cigarettes that drew his attention to their presence. He froze and listened. He could hear the rustle of leaves and the snapping of a twig. They weren't trying to hide their presence. Quickly he deviated from his path spying a fallen log. A small creek that most likely filtered into the river to his left had carved a hollow just on the other side. He dove over the log, splashed down the creek and flattened himself against the bank under a large tree using an overhanging bush for cover. The voices got nearer.

"God, I'm starving." If the voice hadn't been so deep Mac would have thought it was Don. "You reckon there's anything to eat down there?"

"Dunno. Anyway we're supposed to be relieving Carver and Bryce not having lunch and we ain't gonna be able to sit around with Chopper watching our every move on those cameras."

"Yeah well least it's better than shifting those crates. I could do with a rest. My back's killin' me. Hold on. I need to pee."

"Here? Can't you wait?"

"Nah, it's that bloody sludge they called coffee at the motel. Goes right through me. Am I glad we don't have to go back there."

Footsteps got closer. Mac tried not to move and give himself away. He heard a rustling to his left and then the sound of a zipper lowering. A yellow stream of urine arched into the creek less than two feet to his left.

_Nice!_

Slowly the stream reduced to a trickle. The guy sighed with relief. Mac almost shot out of his skin. Without moving his head he swivelled his eyes towards his left elbow that was propped against a branch of the bush. One of the smaller branches had detached itself and was crawling along his sleeve. He must have disturbed it as he hid. He suppressed a shudder as he watched the six inch stick insect make it's way towards his head.

Mac closed his eyes and waited, trying to ignore the creature crawling up his arm. He heard the sound of the zipper and then footsteps.

"Oh that's better."

"Come on. Mason will have our heads if we don't get a move on."

"All right. All right. Stop yer grousin'"

Mac listened to the footsteps fade away. He waited as long as he could. He could feel the insect on his collar. He wasn't a squeamish man but the thought of the insect crawling across his face was too much. With one swift movement he brushed it off, shuddering as he did so and turned away back to the path. He moved along swiftly knowing instinctively that the two men had come from the kill houses to the north-east of the main complex. He had to make sure that he had cover before their replacements Carver and Bryce caught up with him. Even at a brisk pace it would take them well over twenty minutes to cover the distance from the main buildings at the southern entrance to the kill houses on the north-west plus the time for the two going to relieve them to get there. Mac reckoned he had a good thirty minutes even with a five minute safety margin.

It took him less than fifteen minutes to reach the kill houses. The two large warehouses were nestled discretely among the trees a few yards from each other. The nearer one looked unused, closed up. The door of the furthest one was open and the white van stood with it's doors wide next to the Jeep. Two men walked out slowly carrying a large crate. They lifted it carefully and pushed it into the truck. Mac hunkered down and brought out his scope. He checked the exterior of the buildings. No cameras. He zoomed in on the two men loading the truck. He recognised them from the list of mugshots that Wong had handed out, Klaus and Smith.

They scrambled down and headed back into the warehouse. Mac waited. After a few minutes they came out with a second crate. They were followed by two other men each carrying a small metal trunk painted in green. Dane and Grover. That would make the two heading to the Centre Lester and Brady. All present and correct. Only Mason was missing. The men stowed the merchandise in the back of the truck and headed back into the warehouse.

Quickly Mac stowed the scope and sprinted from his hiding position to the door of the nearest warehouse. He tested the handle. It wasn't locked. Thanking the gods of good luck, he opened it quietly and slipped in closing it behind him.

He waited a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dark. As he did so he used his other senses. There was the smell of cut wood, damp and musty. There were no sounds other than the indistinct voice of one of the men outside calling to the other. He opened his eyes and pulled his Glock from it's holster. The interior of the warehouse was dim, the only light coming from the emergency exit sign above his head. He knew there was a control panel somewhere to light the place up but he wasn't interested in that. He only wanted to take a short cut. In front of him a large staircase had been constructed out of panel boards. He ignored it and, hugging the wall, he skirted around the edge of the room. He stepped carefully keeping the sound of his movements to a minimum. He swapped the Glock to his left hand and felt along the wall with his right. Smooth panels next to one another then a bump. Mac stopped. A hinge. He felt around. His fingers brushed across a gap in the wooden panels. He pushed and a door opened towards him with a soft double click. Just beyond was the outer wall of the warehouse, a passageway and a metal staircase that led up. He smiled. Some things never changed.

What he knew and what any casual observer would have missed viewing the warehouses from his previous position was that there was a walkway linking to the two warehouses together. Instructors could pass from one to the other viewing the action of the soldiers training below from a set of walk-ways up in the rafters of the huge cavernous buildings. The only risk he now ran was being spotted on the cameras that they used to monitor the training. He hoped that they weren't in use. Quickly he climbed the iron staircase, up and up until he reached the walkway. He paused listening for the sound of running feet or the shouts to indicate he had been discovered. There were none. He made his way to the back of the building and the door he knew was there. He pressed his ear to the grey metal and listened. There were sounds from the other side but they were indistinct.

Slowly and carefully he twisted the handle and opened the door just the tiniest of cracks. Light flooded in from the other side. He blinked. The walkway beyond looked empty. He opened it a little more, his fingers curling more tightly around his weapon. He could feel his heart pounding as adrenalin surged through his bloodstream. He opened the door wider and risked a quick look. The action was taking place below. As luck would have it the door to the control room perched at the back of the warehouse stood open. The interior was empty. Keeping low he crept through the door and pulled it closed.

.


	24. Chapter 24 - Lone wolf

**Chapter 24 – Lone wolf**

A light drizzle had started to fall making everyone colder and wetter than they thought possible. The sun that had threatened to break through had given up completely. Mac had been gone for over four hours. Lunch had been and gone much to Don's disappointment though as time passed he thought less and less about food and more and more about why they hadn't heard from him.

A sudden buzzing in their ears made them all jump. Steve leaned forward in anticipation meeting Don's eyes. They all looked at one another.

"_Team A. Report. Over."_

The voice crackled in their earpieces but it was distinctly Mac's. Don felt Jo relax a little at his side. She had barely said a word since they had set up position in a small clearing just east of the training centre.

"In position. Over." came Wright's voice.

"_Team B. Report. Over." _

Harry tapped his the mike at his throat. "In position. What's your status Lone Wolf? Over. " Harry flashed them a cheeky grin. Don and Steve sniggered and even the cold Kate Moore shook her head in amusement.

"_Funny Harry. Funny." _Don was heartened to see Jo smile at the amusement in Mac's voice. _"Am currently positioned at the eastern kill house. Seven hostiles at main complex. Repeat seven hostiles. They have camera's covering the grounds monitored by Chopper. "_ They all looked at the sheet with the mugshots. Wong pointed at a fat bald man with a stubby nose. _"Also there are Lester, Brady, Dane, Glover, Klaus, Smith. Over."_ They all mentally ticked off the faces on the list.

"Got it. What about Mason and the cousins? Over."

"_Still here. With Carver and Bryce. Over."_

"Any sign of the buyers? Over." This was from Wright.

"_Negative. Over."_

A faint sound reached their ears. They looked around.

"Chopper," said Steve.

"Huh?" Don looked confused.

Steve nodded at the mugshot. "Not him." Steve twirled his finger in the air. "That kind of chopper."

Mac's voice crackled over the comm's. _"Hold positions. Helicopter on approach from north-east. Await signal. Over and out."_

.

Mac was hunkered down in the control room at the back of the warehouse. It wasn't large. There was just enough room for two men to sit side by side. It had doors on both sides that led to the walkway that encircled the warehouse. Both doors were open. It had a row of monitors and a control panel for the lights, cameras and smoke canisters used in the simulations. They were all switched off. There was a PA system that covered the two buildings. Mac had been obliged to wait until the loading had finished so although he was able to observe them from his lofty position, their attention being on the ground, he couldn't risk calling in and having his voice carry across the cavernous interior. Besides this was the last place he wanted to start a fire-fight. From Mason's snappy tone and considering the number of times he checked his watch something was going down soon. As soon as the equipment had been loaded Mason ordered the bulk of his men back to the main complex instructing only Carver and Bryce to stay behind.

However a few minutes later all five men had left the warehouse so Mac had taken the opportunity to call the teams. Now he was alone in the warehouse but he could hear the approaching helicopter clearly. It had to be the buyers. He surveyed the space in front of him. It was piled high with crates and boxes of every sort. He could see ammunitions, rifles, machine guns, grenade launchers, land-mines, light artillery and surface to air missiles. This wasn't just a one-off sale. There was enough here to equip a dozen terrorist cells. These were regular supplies. The sound of cars starting up outside launched him into action.

Mac left the control room and sprinted to the metal staircase on the eastern side of the room. He plunged down the stairs as fast as he could trying not to make too much noise. The helicopter was getting closer. There was only one space big enough for a helicopter to land and that was the arena about a mile to the south. Logically Mason, Victor and Ryan Gaunt along with Carver and Bryce would be heading south though they would have to take the track that ran along the eastern edge.

Mac arrived at the door in time to see the tail-lights of the white van disappear along the track presumably following the Jeep. He hit the mike at his throat. "All teams stand-by. Over."

"Wilco," Wright answered.

"Roger that Lone Wolf. Don't keep all the fun to yourself. Over." Mac grimaced. There were times he could murder Harry.

He set off at a fast pace directly south through the trees. The chopper was coming in fast from his left and veering south. There was no longer any need for stealth. The rest of Mason's men would be inside the main buildings by now. Logically Mason and the Gaunt cousins would be in the Jeep. Carver and Bryce would be driving the well-loaded van. They wouldn't be able to go that fast. Mac kept up his neck-breaking pace, dodging around trees, jumping fallen logs. Although he was breathing heavily the adrenalin coursing through him kept him going. The helicopter was low overhead coming into land. Mac headed towards it. The trees began thin a little. He slowed his pace. He could see the chopper now low in the sky. He reached the edge of the clearing.

Dropping once more to his belly he crawled forward. The Jeep and the van were to his left. As he suspected Mason and the Gaunt cousins were getting out of the Jeep. The helicopter hovered just above the Arena. He pulled out his scope and flicked it across the back of the buildings. The rest of Mason's men were nowhere in sight. He focussed on the chopper. Five men plus the pilot. He tried to get a good look at the five men but all he could see was dark hair, dark skin and dark clothing. He tapped the mike at his throat again.

"All teams. Standby. Rendezvous is the Arena. Buyers number five plus the pilot. Five plus the pilot. Mason, Ryan and Victor are present." Mac flicked the scope towards the cars. Mason stood calmly with his hands folded in front of him with Ryan and Victor on either side. Mac glanced at the van. It was empty. He flicked the scope from side to side. There was no sign of Carver and Bryce. _Dammit! Had they gone into the centre?_ "Possible nine hostiles at centre. Repeat nine hostiles. Carver and Bryce are no longer here. Over."

Mac received confirmation from both teams. He waited. The helicopter touched down and the rotors slowly came to a stop. The doors opened and the five men climbed out. Four of them were armed. One stepped forward. He was tall and slim with an angular face and sallow skin. The lower half of his face had a close-cut beard. He approached Mason. There was some discussion but Mac was too far away to hear what was being said. Then the buyer waved two of his men towards the truck. They went around the back with Ryan. There was a stand-off, while the goods were checked. Then they returned, nodded and got into the van clearly intending to drive it away when the deal was complete. The buyer flicked his hand once more. The man closest to the helicopter pulled out a large black tote bag and walked over to Mason dropping at his feet. Mason checked the contents and then picked it up.

The exchange was complete. Mac unslung the M16 from his shoulder.

"All Teams. We are go."

For a moment there was complete silence then the sound of sirens echoed eerily through the mist. Mason and the buyer looked around frantically wondering what on earth was going on. Mac knew that local PD would be hitting the main entrance with everything it had. They had already set up roadblocks on every road leading from the Centre. There was no way out. The FBI team would be hitting the smaller block to his right while Harry and his team, together with Jo and Don would hit the larger training block. His stomach leapt for a moment at the thought of Jo involved in this but he pushed the feelings away and concentrated on the job at hand. He spread his legs, dug in his toes, raised the scope of the rifle to his eye, aimed and fired.

The grey rubber of the van's tires exploded with loud pops and the van rocked to one side as the weight of the armaments forced it so sink onto it's wheel rims. Mac turned his attention to the Jeep. He squeezed the trigger and shot out both front tires. By this point it was pandemonium down there. Mason, Ryan and Victor dove for cover behind the van. The buyer headed back for the chopper yelling for the pilot to power up. Two of his men had dropped to their knees waving their guns from left to right not sure where to fire. Mac decided that it was time to ensure that they didn't get too far.

Pulling a small cartridge from his webbing he loaded it into a short barrelled extension fitted to the underside of his rifle. Although not standard issue in the military, Mac liked to keep up to date with his weapons and had test-fired an M16 with a 40mm grenade launcher attachment. He adjusted the sight, allowed for drift and fired. The result was impressive. The tail section of the helicopter exploded with a large plume of black smoke and a multitude of sparks causing a small electrical fire.

Mac smiled. They wouldn't be going anywhere. And that should provide enough of a diversion to ensure that Jo and the team should make it to the buildings without too much trouble.

However the downside was that the bad guys had now spotted his position. They all took cover and strafed his position with gunfire. Throwing his arms over his head he felt great lumps of wood torn from the trees shower around him. The tang of cordite filled the air. Time to move. He flipped the switch from semi to full automatic and let off a long burst spraying the side of the chopper. And then he turned and fled cutting to his right.

The sound of gunfire came from inside the buildings. Once more thoughts of Jo sprang to his mind but they were pushed to a side as more bullets came his way. He dodged left and right trying to keep trees between them and him. The bullets weren't close which meant that they were firing wild in the hope of a lucky shot. It also meant that they didn't have a clue that he was only one man. Harry's teasing voice filled his head. Lone Wolf. He was going to have to get Harry back for that.

.

**A/N : Back tomorrow with more action.**


	25. Chapter 25 - Engaging the enemy

**Chapter 25 – Engaging the enemy**

"_All Teams. We are go."_

As Harry led the team to the side of the building the first of the shots rang out. Jo sent up a silent prayer. As they reached the training facility, Steve placed a wad of C4 against the emergency doors. They all dropped to their knees covering their faces. The doors blew apart. Steve led them in. Wright had been right. It was a gym. A boxing ring stood in the middle with a matted area next to it, a climbing wall at one end and a mezzanine with exercise machines. Harry signalled to Steve and Kate to take the upper floor. They nodded. Steve led the way with Kate watching his back. They climbed the circular staircase and threaded their way through the exercise machines. A loud explosion came from outside. They all flinched.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ah man! I knew I shouldn't have let Mac take that grenade launcher."

Don's jaw dropped.

Harry led them over to the fire doors and peered through. He was about to push open the door when several figures appeared in the corridor beyond looking around trying to figure what was going on. They spotted Harry and lifted their weapons.

"Whoa! Incoming!" He threw himself against one wall with Don and Jo at the other side. Bullets pelted the door punching out big holes. The fire-fight outside continued. Don and Harry had the same idea at the same time. They stuck the muzzles of their weapons through the holes made by the bullets and fired back. They were rewarded by a scream from the end of the corridor. Harry risked a glance. The fire doors at the other end were swinging closed. The corridor was empty but there was a trail of blood on the the floor. Five doors, three on the left, two on the right, he signalled to Jo and Don.

"Go!"

They raced down the corridor dodging from one doorway to another. The first two rooms on either side were training rooms set out with simple desks and chairs. The third on the left was a kitchen. There was a swing door at the far end. Don positioned himself in the doorway to the kitchen with Harry opposite him on the other side of the corridor. He nodded to Jo and she squeezed past him making her way quietly across the kitchen. She peered through the porthole of the swing door. They were four men at the other side in what appeared to be part dining room, part recreation room. Two were kneeling by the windows concerned with what was happening out front and two were facing the doors that led into the corridor. She realized that there was a fifth man laid on the floor writhing in agony, his hands clamped to his leg. She lifted five fingers.

Harry nodded. "You are surrounded. Lay down your weapons." Harry yelled his voice echoing down the corridor. The fire doors were strafed with bullets.

"I'll take that as a no then," Harry huffed. He tapped his throat mike. "Steve, Kate, positions. Over."

"Upper floor clear. In forward stairwell. Over." Steve's voice crackled in their ears.

"Roger that. Five hostiles in dining room. You take point. On my mark. Over." He looked at Don then at Jo. "Your call," he mouthed. "Last chance. Lay down your weapons," he yelled. More gunfire. They focussed their attention on Jo.

Carefully Jo bobbed up to look through the porthole. All the men were now focussed on the fire doors leading to the corridor but the one nearest the window caught the movement of her head. "Shit!" She dove to one side just as a hail of bullets gouged hunks out of the door.

"Go," yelled Harry.

Steve shot out the glass in the door and Kate lobbed a flash-bang through the hole. They waited till it had gone off and entered. The first man fired blindly but was taken out by Steve. The second managed to swing his weapon around but was taken down immediately by Kate. The two others were eventually able to open their eyes only to discover five guns pointed at them. Harry and Don stood by the fire doors. Kate and Steve by the window and Jo by the kitchen door. Wisely they laid down their weapons and stuck their hands in the air.

Harry nodded in approval. "Team A. Building secure."

In response Wright called out a "Team B. Building secure."

Harry nodded in approval and grinned at Jo. "Is shit some kind of NYPD code word for go?"

Jo and Don chuckled as Steve waved in the local PD to take charge of the men.

Harry touched his throat mike again. "Team A to Lone Wolf. How are you doing buddy? Over."

Their comm's links crackled. The sound of distant gunfire echoed through the open window.

"_A … little … busy. … Backup … would be … nice. Over."_

They all looked at one another. Harry addressed the local police chief, a solid looking man with a huge ginger moustache. "You guys good to take over here?" He nodded waving to his deputies to secure the room. "What's your position Lone Wolf?"

Silence.

Harry's face took on a worried look. "Mac?"

"_I'm in … "_

A distant explosion reverberated through the building making the windows rattle. Then silence. Everyone held their breath. Jo thought her heart was going to stop. She closed her eyes. Seconds ticked past and then her earpiece crackled.

"_...the Village!"_

.

By cutting right he had hoped to draw some of them away from the main buildings thereby giving the others the chance to round up Mason's men. After the initial flurry of gunfire there had been a hesitant lull as Mason, Ryan, Gaunt and the buyers tried to work out what was going on. Mac had kept to the trees until he come across the track that the Jeep and the van had taken to get from the north of the compound back to the main complex. He crossed quickly and plunged into the trees at the other side taking up position behind a large oak. He peered around the massive trunk and listened to the muted sounds of gunfire from the main complex. A few seconds later three figures dashed across the road to his left. Mason and the Gaunt cousins.

He rose intending to follow them when suddenly another figure appeared. A dark-haired, dark-skinned man in dark baggy clothing. The man ground to a halt in the centre of the track. Their eyes met. The man's eyes sparkled with an intensity that left Mac in no doubt of his intentions. Mac moved even before he was aware of having made the decision. He took cover behind the tree as the first bullets struck. Spinning through a full circle he rolled his back against the rough bark and brought his M16 hard against the right hand side of the tree. He pulled the trigger and a volley of shots hit their mark. The man went down but bullets continued to fly as the second man from the van headed towards him. Smarter than his fallen companion he stopped short of the track and fired from a behind a tree. Mac returned fire. The man yelled, an ugly guttural sound.

Mac didn't need to understand the words. He was calling for back-up. Mac let loose with another volley of shots and waited for the return of fire trying to determine the man's exact position. He saw the man raise an arm to an unseen opponent behind. More shouting. He waved his arm telling the others to spread out. Movement deeper in the trees caught Mac's attention. He spotted two more figures; they were trying to go north and circle round him.

Time to go.

He fired another longer volley and turned and headed east. He plunged through the trees as bullets smacked with dull thuds into the bark of the trees behind him. He angled himself a little to north and prayed he would come out in the right spot.

As he ran a voice crackled in his earpiece.

"_Team A. Building secure."_

A happy confident voice. Harry. Team A were good. Mac smiled to himself. The earpiece crackled again.

"_Team B. Building secure."_

It sounded as though everything was going to plan. Well everything apart from the three guys chasing him and the fact that he had no idea where Mason and the Gaunt cousins had got to.

"_Team A to Lone Wolf. How are you doing buddy? Over."_

Harry's voice sounded like they were sitting in a bar making idle conversation. Another volley of bullets followed him, one smacking into a branch that was a little too close for comfort.

_Just peachy!_

He skidded to a halt and took cover behind one of the wider trees. "A … little … busy …" He turned and fired. "... backup … would be … nice. Over." He kept firing until he ran out of bullets. He yanked the magazine out discarding it and pulled another one from a pouch on his thigh. He rammed it into place, his eyes desperately searching the woods behind him. The man chasing him rose to fire forcing Mac behind the tree. He prepared to fire back.

"_What's your position Lone Wolf?"_

He opened his mouth to answer but movement caught his eye from his right. He turned to see a second man appear from among a large clump of bushes. His gun was slung across his chest and he had his fists together in a fighting stance.

"_Mac?"_

Mac squinted as he brought his gun to bear on the second man. "I'm in … " He broke off as he realized what the man had in his hands. He watched as the hands separated. It seemed to happen in slow motion. The man raised his arm as though pitching a ball. All conscious thought ceased. Survival instinct kicked in. Mac pushed himself upright and threw himself as far as he could.

The explosion from the grenade blew him off his feet. He felt himself tumble through the air. A huge mass of dirt, leaves and twigs blasted in all directions. Mac hit the ground hard sending an agonising pain through his partially healed shoulder. He felt himself roll until suddenly he hit something hard and hollow. He lay on his back as dust and dirt showered his face and hands. He was vaguely aware of having dropped his rifle. He blinked. Towering above him was a wall, a roughly built wall made of plywood painted to look like stone.

He knew exactly where he was. Automatically his hand went to the transducer at his throat to make sure it was still in position.

"...the Village," he gasped.

.


	26. Chapter 26 - The Village

**Chapter 26 – The Village**

Harry led the way out the building to the area at the back called the arena. Wright was emerging from the back of the instructor's block instructing his team to fan out and secure the area. The five FBI men moved out. Wong was approaching the helicopter, a tall plume of smoke still rising into the air from the missing tail section. On his knees under the nose section of the wounded machine was the pilot. He was curled up in a ball and his eyes were closed.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot, please don't don't shoot me. I'm just a pilot. Please don't don't shoot me."

They all looked at one another.

"Er … Sir?" Jo began. The pilot jumped and tentatively opened an eye on hearing a woman's voice. The other flew open at the sight of her bullet-proof vest and the Glock firmly gripped in his hands. He looked around at the others in horror flinching when he saw Harry in his BDU's. His hands shot up.

"I'm the pilot. Just the pilot. I swear," he stammered looking like a human version of a jellyfish. "Please … please don't shoot me."

Jo smiled at him. "You can put your hands down now.

The pilot looked around and realized that he was completely alone. His clients had disappeared. The other men they were meeting had gone and no one was firing. He lowered his hands. His eyes looked once more at the people standing around him and the vests marked FBI.

"I'm … I'm guessing they weren't … Italian agricultural engineers?"

This caused a few raised eyebrows but no one responded as suddenly Jo raised her weapon circling the helicopter. Don followed suit wondering what was up. Then he saw it. A trail of blood drops.

The pilot's eyes went wide. Wong grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away while the others positioned themselves around the helicopter. Jo nodded to Don indicating the blood on the handle of the rear door. Don nodded to Wright and they positioned themselves facing the door. Jo stepped to the right and grabbed the handle. She pulled it open.

Cowering on the floor, his upper leg covered in blood lay the buyer snarled back at them. Wright smiled at him. "Welcome to the United States." He waved Ben and Jerry over. "Search him."

Don and Jo stepped back as the two FBI agents took charge. Suddenly two distant shots rang out followed by a burst of gunfire from the trees. Everyone turned. It was followed by more gunfire.

"Mac!"

Don took off his long legs pounding the ground heading towards the trees. Harry and Jo took off after him followed by Kate and Steve.

.

Mac's first thought after ascertaining that he still had all his body parts was his rifle. He groaned as he rolled over and pushed himself to his knees. Every, bone, joint, muscle and tendon seemed to hurt. He was definitely getting too old for this! He spotted the rifle lying a few feet away and then he froze as a little beyond it were a pair of boots. Mac raised his head. The guy with the grenade now had his hands wrapped around his gun with his finger on the trigger, a Heckler & Koch SA80 standard issue rifle for the British army. It looked like it had seen some use. Mac wondered idly where he had managed to get his hands on it.

There was few seconds stand-off, the man in front of him gloating that Mac was on his knees, Mac calculating his options given his rifle was out of reach and his Glock wouldn't even clear his holster before the bullets reached him. A movement to the north caused both of them to turn. A figure appeared with a handgun raised to shoulder height. A double tap to the chest and the man with SA80 went down, his own finger tightening on the trigger unleashing a volley of bullets into the air. Mac dove for his own rifle and brought it up to bear on the newcomer. Mac fired before the newcomer could get a fix. Suddenly Mac remembered his original pursuer. He span round to see the man emerging from the trees. He fired again and ran for cover passing the fallen man who had unwittingly saved his life. Carver.

Mac clambered through an opening on the side of the prefabricated building, ensured that it was empty and hunkered down. It was only made of painted plywood so wouldn't stop any bullets but it would give him time to think. He was breathing heavily as he squatted down against the rough wooden panels inside the structure. And he took a few moments to pull himself together.

_Think!_

He had taken down three of the buyer's men which left the buyer himself and one more who Mac assumed was backing up the guy with the grenade. He couldn't be too far away. Mac thought it was safe to assume that the pilot was an innocent victim. When he had taken out the helicopter he had seen the pilot throw himself out and crawl under the machine shaking like a leaf, hardly the actions of a hardened terrorist. Carver was down not three yards away so clearly Mason hadn't sent him and Bryce back to the main complex. They had probably been hiding in the woods watching the trade. Additional backup. So that meant that there was Mason, Ryan, Victor, Bryce, the buyer and one more. Six against one. He wasn't sure he liked those odds.

His earpiece crackled. _"You still with us buddy? Over."_

Mac had never been so glad to hear his friend.

"Still here. Over"

"_Where's here? Over."_

Mac thought for a moment, crawled to the other side of the structure and peered through a gap in the slats. For a minute it reminded him of being back in Iraq. Suddenly a great weariness came over him. He took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall and tried to block out the unwelcome images.

"_Mac?"_

"Centre house on your left. Just past the market stall. Expect six hostiles. Over."

"_Stay put. We're on our way. Over."_

.

Harry and the others caught up with Don as they emerged from the swathe of trees that separated the village Harry put his hand on Don's shoulder pulling him down behind a row of bushes. Jo and Steve squatted next to them "A little discrete recon required methinks." He turned. "Kate?"

Kate nodded, slung her rifle over her shoulder and pulled an object out of a side pouch. A cross between an old-fashioned cine camera and a shortened telescope, it was a compact thermal imager. She dropped to her stomach and crawled forward. Kate raised the scope to her eye.

Harry leaned forward. "Kate, Mac should be in the centre building on the left. Mac buddy, do me a favour. Wave an arm. Over."

Kate peered through the scope. "Got him." Slowly she scanned the Village. "Four more, one in the second house on the left. One in the third house on the right. Two in the last house on the right." Harry relayed the information to Mac. Suddenly she shifted the scope. " Wait someone's approaching Mac's position from the north-west."

Jo and Don peered over the top of the bushes but they were too far away.

Harry grabbed his rifle and moving to the left in a crab like motion, raised it and peered through the scope. A dark-haired, dark-skinned figure was slowly approaching the building where Mac was hiding. He swore under his breath knowing he couldn't take the shot at that range. "Mac buddy you've got company directly west of your position." He squinted into the scope. The guys rifle was over his shoulder. "Shit! Grenade!"

_Grenade? Not again!_

Mac shot to his feet and and yanked open the door. He sprinted across the street for the house opposite. He had barely made it to the open doorway that was covered only by a torn, rain-washed piece of cloth when the structure behind him blew apart. Pieces of wood blew in all directions. Mac dove for the doorway as an enormous piece of panelling crashed into the building beside him. He tumbled against the bottom of the stairwell.

Jo gasped as she saw him run. For a moment it looked as though he would be caught in the blast but he disappeared through the doorway opposite.

"Time to move people, Kate, Steve, left flank, Jo, Don you go right." They nodded. "Mac buddy, you good?"

"_Yeah!"_ came a spluttering voice that didn't leave them with a lot of confidence.

"Okay, let's play rats and pigeons. Mac, you're the pigeon. Over." Harry turned to others. "Go! And try to stay out of sight."

Steve and Kate immediately turned away and Harry scooted forward through the bushes. Don shot a look at Jo but she merely shrugged and began to head right so he was left with no choice to follow. _What the hell was rats and pigeons?_

Harry used the bushes as cover as far as he could but there came a point when he had no choice but to break cover and make a run for it. He headed as fast as he could for the nearest building on the right, a small two storey built out of heavy boards and painted to look like stone. There was a canopy on the front and some more hardboard painted to look like a market stall. It even had produce though now he was close by he could see it was made out of polystyrene and the fruit was plastic. He crawled low behind the stall and squatted at the far side watching the second and third houses intently.

"How are you doing my little feathered friend? Over." he whispered.

"In position. Over"

Harry was happy to hear the amusement in his friend's voice. "Okay A Team, let's flush 'em out." Harry watched as Kate glanced out of the window opposite and rolled her eyes as someone started humming a few bars of the familiar theme tune. He knew Steve must be round the back. He nodded. They both fired on the next structure along. A figure burst out of the second house firing wildly as he dashed towards the third but didn't stop as he headed for the fourth that had been partially obliterated by the grenade. He disappeared behind a pile of rubble. Behind him Kate made her way up the street focussing her attention on the houses on the other side. From her earlier scan she knew someone was hiding there. This was confirmed as a bullet pinged off the walls behind her.

The shooter's position was peppered with bullets forcing them to duck back. Kate edged her way along to join Steve who had cut though the from the back. "He's on the first floor." Kate caught Harry's eye, pointed to her own and them towards the upper floor two building along. Harry nodded.

"Don, Jo. Third building upper floor." He ran for the next building along crossing a side street. Only it wasn't a side street. The houses were merely a set of interconnected shells. Inside the buildings were made from scaffolding and wooden floors. Don made his way round to the far side, Jo mirroring his movements along the nearest. She squeezed her way in through a gap and peered around. The ground was a mixture of dirt and scrubby dried grass. The light filtered in through cracks in the walls. The space was about twenty square feet. Several cut out panels in the shapes of people were stacked against one wall including one of a little girl clutching a doll. Jo did a double-take and shuddered at the creepy image. A shadow passed one of the slits on the other side shutting off the light for a moment. She knew it was Don. Quickly she crossed the room and pulled open a door. She peered in. It was dark. A board creaked above her. She spotted the stairs in the far corner. As quietly as she could she slipped through the doorway and made her way across the room. It had some rudimentary furniture, table, chairs, an old stove with some cooking pots. She squatted at the base of the stairs and looked up. The board creaked again. The guy was out of sight to the left. Then she had an idea. She went over to the stove and pulled a ladle from the pot. She went back to the base of the stairs, positioned her self in the corner and threw the ladle. It landed with a clatter. A face appeared at the top of the stairs. Their eyes met, his registering surprise.

"Drop it!" she ordered. The man sneered and lifted the gun. She fired twice. He staggered backwards and collapsed.

"Jo!" Don's voice echoed from somewhere upstairs.

"I'm good." Don appeared at the top of the stairs and kicked the weapon away from the man's hand. He bent down to check the man's pulse. He shook his head and quickly made his way down to join her. They made for the door behind them and bumped into Harry. An old truck was parked in the street. He was leaning against it.

"That was Bryce," Don mouthed.

Harry nodded. "Someone's over the road, in the ruins of the house Mac blew up."

The comm's crackled. _"That wasn't me!"_

Harry grinned. "That's what you you always say! Mac you got a line on him?"

"_Negative."_

"Okay Kate, Steve, see if you can flush him out."

Kate and Steve and ran from their positions to take up new ones at the south and west of the building. The air was heavy with the smell of charred wood. Kate covered. Steve moved in. A figure popped up and unleashed a clip full of bullets forcing Steve to dive to the ground. However, the attack was short-lived as he too was forced to stop as a rapid burst of fire hit his position. The firing stopped.

Silence.

Steve lifted his head. Someone was groaning. Kate looked over at him wanting to know if he was okay. Somewhat surprised, he nodded. Slowly they crept forward. On the other side, Don and Jo did the same but their focus was on the rest of the street. There were still three others out there. Harry covered them.

Steve picked himself up and skirted his way round the edge of the dilapidated building. Another moan emanated from behind a pile of smouldering wood. Cautiously Steve picked his way past a pile of rubble. By straining his neck he could just see a leg sticking out. Someone was sitting on the ground. He aimed his gun. Across the street he caught Don's eye. He nodded at him indicating he should circle round.

Jo saw the look. "Go, I'll cover you."

Jo looked behind her. Harry nodded too. He was surveying the rooftops. Quickly Don skirted around her and made his way to the next building along. He couldn't see him but he knew Mac was close by. Steve signalled to him by pointing down at a pile of rubble. Don looked around and flew across the street to the next building up. He half-expected to be followed by a line of bullets but the street was eerily silent. He couldn't help feeling that he was being watched. He was glad as he reached the cover of the last building on the left. He flattened his back against the rough board and hoped that no one was the other side ready to shoot him in the back. He nodded to Jo who checked with Harry and then ran to join him. However she hadn't taken two steps before a dark shape detached itself from the other side of the structure where Don was positioned.

A guttural shout reached her ears. Jo had no time even to raise her gun. Instinctively she knew it was too late. The terrorist already had her in his sights. Her heart skipped a beat as she waited for the bullet that she knew would end her life but it never came. Two shots rang out. The man staggered, seemed to lift his gun again but a third shot echoed down the street and he collapsed and tumbled face down.

Jo looked at Don in surprise but his gun was pointing the other way. The shots couldn't have come from Harry either as she was stood right in his line of sight. Then she looked up. A figure on the rooftop opposite stood up. A figure in BDU's.

Don sighed with relief and grinned at her. "Rats and pigeons, I get it. Mac's a pigeon!" Jo gave a half-hearted chuckle as some of the tension began to leave her. Mac stood silhouetted on top of the building opposite. His eyes lingered on Jo's for one second and then with a tiny smile he lifted his weapon to his shoulder and nodded towards the pile of rubble. He had her back. She ran to join Don who squeezed her arm affectionately. "You okay?"

Jo smiled not sure whether she was or not. "You do realize, of course Don, that that makes us the rats."

The smile disappeared from his face. "Ugh! I hate rats!" Opposite Kate stood to join Steve, all four knowing that Harry and Mac had the north of The Village covered from their respective positions. Slowly they all moved in. Someone was breathing heavily clearly in pain. Don kicked aside a large piece of wood. The man tried to lift his gun arm but couldn't because of a large bullet hole in his right shoulder. His left hand was slick with blood where he was trying to staunch the flow of blood. "Drop it!"

The man grimaced and threw down his weapon in disgust. Jo grinned. "Well, well, well. Cyrus Mason! There are two FBI agents who were hoping they might find you here."

Don nodded. "Looks like one was Wright and the other was Wong." Only Steve appreciated the joke. Cyrus Mason glowered and threw his head back in resignation.

**A/N. Sorry that was rather a long chapter. Thanks to all who have stuck with this story. Conclusion tomorrow.**


	27. Chapter 27 - Brothers and Cousins

**Chapter 27 – Brothers and Cousins**

"You okay?" His voice was little more than a whisper but it was raw with emotion, the torment in his eyes plain for her see.

She smiled at him reassuringly. In fact she was anything but. Her heart had ceased it's pounding but she felt drained. She could feel her stomach trembling and she wanted to curl up in a corner and hide. "I'm fine." Her lips twitched at the use of his favourite phrase but her eyes said 'thank you'. She knew he wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms but this was neither the time nor the place.

They had just completed a sweep of the Village. Nothing. Harry came stomping back. "They're not here. There's no sign of the Gaunt cousins."

"What about the buyer?" asked Mac.

"Oh we've got him. He was in the helicopter you … er … disabled!" Harry waggled his eyebrows up and down. "Bullet in the leg. Take it that was you?"

Mac shrugged but looked pleased. "Lucky shot!"

Harry tipped his head towards Mason. Wright and Wong had made their appearance to take Cyrus Mason into custody. "Another lucky shot?"

Mac favoured him with a withering glare. "We wanted him alive. That took skill!"

Harry screwed up his face in disbelief. "Nah!" Then he burst out laughing at the disgruntled look on Mac's face. Suddenly the sound of distant gunfire echoed through the trees. "Now what?"

Wright stood up. "It's coming from the north-west. I sent the team over to secure the weapon's store."

Mac and Harry turned as more shots rang out. "GAUNT!" they spat in unison and without a word took off leaving the others standing open-mouthed. Don took a step as though to follow them but Jo put out a hand. She shook her head slightly. _Not this time._ Don could see the mingle of emotions on her face but he understood why. This was something he had to do.

"He's got a score to settle."

Don turned as it wasn't Jo that had spoken but Kate, Steve standing by her side, his face grim.

Jo sighed. "They both have."

.

Ryan Gaunt turned to look at his cousin in disgust. The big man was red in the face and breathing heavily. At least he had kept himself trim. Victor may have put on more muscle but it was a lot of bulk to haul around when they had needed to move fast. He was furious. The whole situation was FUBAR. His legitimate business had not been as successful as he had hoped. It allowed him to live but only that and Ryan Gaunt had expensive tastes. When his cousin had come to him and asked him to to go into business with Mason it seemed like the answer to his prayers and for several years it had worked very nicely indeed. But as soon as the first shots had taken out the tires on the Jeep, he had quickly seen the way the wind was blowing and he had no sense of obligation to Mason. He wasn't about to go gunning for him. So he had run. His cousin had followed. They had watched the team, an odd mixture of civilian law enforcement and military personnel, take down Bryce, then one of the buyer's goons then capture Mason himself. Ryan hadn't wanted to wait around. He needed to get out and had set off immediately for the kill houses.

He had pulled at Victor and given him a one time offer. "Come with me or you face them alone." Victor had followed but the jog through the trees had been too slow and the FBI team had cut them off. Now they were sandwiched between the two. The two men sat against a trunk weighing their options. "We need transport."

"We can't go back to the centre. It's crawling with cops." Victor spluttered. "And the Fed's are all over the warehouses."

Ryan grimaced at the loss of his investments. "Then we're going to have to hijack one! There's more traffic on the east route. Come on." They turned around partially retracing their steps and heading east towards the road. "Keep your eyes peeled. I don't want to get shot in the back." Victor grunted and watched their backs but there were no sign of the FBI agents. Little did he know that they'd been told to stand down.

.

Harry jogged along the small track and stopped at the point where it curved to the left. He dropped to one knee. Mac squatted down by his side and pulled out his scope. "They'll have worked out that they can't go back to the centre and the north west is covered. "

"They need transport."

Mac swept the scope in a wide arc. "They'll cut east to the main road. More chance of finding something."

"Any sign?"

"No." Mac stowed the scope. "Come on." They cut away from the track and headed east.

.

Marlon Beidecker sat hunched over the wheel of his decaying Chevrolet Cheyenne. A hula hula girl air freshener swung from the rear-view mirror. A limp cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth and his long greasy blond curls jiggled as he bobbed his head in time to the radio. He was so lost in his fantasy about Chely Wright's single white female searching for him that he didn't notice the two guys in the road until it was almost too late. He stamped on the brakes and yanked the steering wheel to his right sending the truck slewing to a halt with a screech of tires. The cigarette dropped from his mouth as the door was pulled open and a gun was shoved into his face.

"Out!"

Marlon complied holding his hands high like a cartoon character, his face a mask of fear and incredulity. He backed away from the truck. Ryan jumped into the driver's seat and waited for Victor to circle the truck and lift his bulk into the other seat. He hadn't even closed the door before Ryan was hauling on the wheel to turn the truck around.

Victor looked at him. "What you doing?"

Ryan glared at him. "Mexico's that way!" He stamped on the accelerator and the truck fish-tailed as it gathered speed.

Marlon stood rooted to the spot as his truck pulled away wondering what the hell he was going to do when, much to his astonishment, another figure stepped out of the trees some thirty yards down the road. Marlon blinked as the man, dressed just like someone out of one of his favourite war movies strode into the road and positioned himself in front of the truck. He stood there immobile. Marlon felt his stomach flip. He was sure that the man was going to be crushed. But as the truck neared a loud crack split the air and the truck seemed to lurch swerving to one side. The man in the road didn't move an inch as the careering vehicle left the hard-top and crashed through the bushes on the hard shoulder before ending up smashing into a tree.

Marlon's jaw dropped as he watched his truck crumple. "Mabel!" he wailed.

.

Harry Fisher lifted the barrel of his M16 off the branch he had been using for support and peeled himself away from the tree. He sauntered nonchalantly over to Mac with a cocky grin. "Bet that made you wet your pants," he cajoled. Mac shook his head in irritation pretending to be annoyed at how close Harry had cut it but Harry noticed a small twinkle in his eye. Harry stomped over to the truck as a figure tumbled out of the passenger door. He looked down at him disdainfully. "He's all yours." Harry continued around to the front and peered in through the shattered wind-shield. Ryan Gaunt lifted his head. The left side of his face was coated in blood and his eyes had an unfocussed look. Harry grinned at him and jabbed at the wind-shield with the tip of his rifle. "Hello there Ryan. Now be a good boy and keep your hands where I can see them." He touched the mic at his throat. "Wright, you there? This is Harry Fisher. Send us some transport. We're on the east road about two miles from the turning to the Centre. Over." He acknowledged the curt response and turned his attention back to Mac. This should be good.

.

Victor Gaunt staggered from the wrecked truck and shook his head to clear his mind. He glanced back at his cousin who had taken the brunt of the crash. Then he spotted Harry who was smiling at him amiably. Harry nodded as though to indicate someone was standing behind him. Victor Gaunt turned and his world came crashing to a halt. He blinked. He couldn't believe his eyes. It just wasn't possible.

"YOU!"

Mac favoured him with his best smile. "Hello Victor. How's the finger?" Victor Gaunt let out a howl of anger. He tried to pull his gun but his finger wasn't fully healed and he fumbled. Mac swung at his hand with the butt of his rifle knocking the huge hand-gun from Gaunt's hand sending it skittering across the road. He tutted. "Really Victor? Now where's the fun in that?" Mac tossed the rifle to Harry who caught it deftly in one hand. At first Gaunt seemed surprised by the gesture but then a slow smile spread across his features. Gaunt lowered his head as though to charge and brought up his fists in front of his face in a classic peek-a-boo boxing pose. Mac arched an eyebrow but kept his hands low by his side.

The two men moved slowly away from the truck. Mac was faintly aware of a lanky young man with long hair walking towards them down the centre of the road and the distant sounds of sirens at his back but he kept his eyes on Gaunt anticipating his first move. Fortunately he had done a little background research on Victor Gaunt during his discrete nightly visits to the lab which, he thought wryly to himself, had turned out not to be too discrete as Adam had still managed to discover him. The kid was too smart for own his good. Mac made a mental note to try to get him out of the lab more. His research had shown that Victor Gaunt had been a good little grunt but with a propensity to bar-brawling that didn't go down well with the military and a half decent boxer albeit with a few disqualifications for dirty fighting. Mac was pretty sure that this fight wouldn't be any different. Gaunt's favourite opening was a double right jab and left hook usually followed by a straight right and another left hook. One thing for sure was he'd be favouring his left hand. Broken fingers took a long time to heal.

The two men circled one another and Gaunt went in for the opening move. Mac danced around him and struck out with a booted foot catching Gaunt in the back of the right knee forcing him to stumble.

"Really Mac! Queensbury rules dear boy!" A tiny smile played the edges of Mac's lips at Harry's efforts at an English accent.

Enraged, Gaunt forgot about any kind of finesse and went straight for a hay-maker, a wild swinging punch thrown with all of his weight behind it. If it had connected it would shattered Mac's jaw but Mac was one step ahead of his opponent, his earlier move intended only to set the ground-rules not to disable. He rolled neatly under it and threw an elbow into Gaunt's kidneys. Gaunt staggered and swung himself around, his face getting redder and the veins his his neck bulging. He threw a straight right at Mac who blocked it and retaliated with an uppercut to the solar plexus. Due to the layers of muscle and fat it did little other than to enrage Gaunt even more.

"You're a dead man Taylor!" he seethed as he threw another round-house punch but Mac deftly dodged out of the way and threw a short jab of his own catching Gaunt on the jaw. He chuckled to see his jowls wobble.

Harry gave a short bark. "Mac didn't your mother tell you it's not nice to play with your food before you eat?" he admonished. Mac gave a sharp laugh as he blocked another wild swing but he didn't let his focus wander. Gaunt's anger was making him unpredictable. Running on pure rage he threw a dozen punches at Mac who staggered a little under the onslaught managing to block most of them with the exception of one that caught him right on the spot where he had been shot. Harry grimaced at Mac's wince but didn't interfere. He kept one eye on the fight and one on Ryan Gaunt who still wasn't quite with them. He was still in the driver's seat clinging onto the steering wheel, his head half supported on on his arm. The sirens got louder and Harry was aware of four squad cars approaching. The cavalry was arriving which was a good thing as the fight appeared to be intensifying and for some reason Mac was choosing to end it.

Mac Taylor wasn't a vindictive man but Victor Gaunt was a murderer, a kidnapper and moreover, he had put the fear of God into Stacy. Alice had told him that she kept having nightmares that Gaunt and Mason were coming after her. Her tear-stained face flashed into his mind as did that of John Silverman, FBI agent, husband and father of two, and Justin Myers, security guard, a decent man who just wanted to help out a kid in trouble. He hadn't set out with the intention of a beat-down but something primeval had taken over, some deep-rooted need to mete out punishment. The world around him blurred as an almost animal instinct took over. Victor Gaunt was going to get what he deserved.

The men danced around one another. Fists flews. Punches landed. Breathing became more ragged. Pain made itself known but it was ignored. Mac's rage grew with each punch until he found himself of the edge of an abyss unable to stop. Suddenly a voice broke through the red mist that had blocked out the world around him.

"_Mac! Enough! Mac! Please!" _

The mist lifted. His heart hammered in his ears. The abyss yawned in front of him. It would be so easy to take that final step. But the voice was right. Enough. He dodged back and feinted forcing Gaunt to go for another hay-maker but instead of stepping under it, he stepped into it grasping his arm firmly. The move took Gaunt by surprise. Grasping Gaunt's wrist with all his strength he twisted and used his free hand to grab his collar. The big man's forward momentum did the rest. Mac slammed him into the side of the truck. The resulting bang reverberated through the bodywork making his cousin raise his head. Slowly Victor Gaunt crumpled into a heap beside the truck. There was a second's silence then Harry piped up.

"And one, and two, and three ..." He broke off. Mac looked up but Harry wasn't looking at him. Mac turned to look behind him. Harry was looking directly at Jo and she didn't look happy. "Think we're in trouble bro'" he finished off quietly.

.

Jo and Don had overheard Harry's call to Wright and they had headed outside and begged a lift with a local deputy by the name of Quick. Don had been tempted to ask him if he had a partner named Slow but Jo was desperate to get off and had pushed him into the car. It had only taken a few minutes to drive from the front of the Centre and up the road that formed its eastern boundary. As they approached they were surprised to see a beat-up Chevrolet Cheyenne crumpled against a tree at the of the road, Harry Fisher perched nonchalantly on the hood. In the middle of the road stood a young man with greasy blond hair and and AC-DC tee-shirt. A little way behind him was an old fella with a gnarled face, half out of his truck and looking on with interest. A sweet looking grandma peered worriedly through the wind-shield at the two men who appeared to be engaged in a boxing fight in the centre of the road.

Jo's draw dropped as they neared and the deputy pulled to a stop. "Oh! Of all the stupid ... testosterone-filled ... macho … bullshit ..." she hissed as she threw the door open. Don shrank back against the leather at her outburst. The deputy turned around in open-mouthed astonishment. Don pulled a face and slunk out of the car after her. Jo stomped up the road unable to believe her eyes. She stopped and looked down. A Desert Eagle lay on the road at her feet. Harry Fisher sat perched on the hood of the Chevrolet intently watching Mac slug it out with Victor Gaunt. He had his own M16 pointed at Ryan Gaunt and a second M16, clearly Mac's across his knee. "Mac! Stop It!" The two men fought on each oblivious to anything around them but the need to hurt the other. Her stomach clenched as she could see the anger and the pain in his face.

"Mac! Enough! Mac! Please!"

She saw him falter as he raised his fist, bloodied and quivering. Then suddenly he changed tack as Gaunt, seeing the hesitation, went in for the attack. In one swift movement Victor Gaunt was thrown against the side of the door to end up in an undignified heap on the ground. Harry Fisher gave a whoop of glee and started a boxing-style count-down as the young man in the AC-DC tee-shirt started clapping. She silenced them both with a glare. Slowly Mac turned around. His chest was heaving and she could see the anger dissipating. As their eyes met she saw a flash of guilt and he seemed to sag as the realization of what he had done hit him.

Mac looked back at Gaunt and then down at his hands, the knuckles already bruised and swelling. His right hand was covered in blood from where he'd caught Jowls on the nose. As he stared at the blood he knew that he could have killed him, that he had been close to the edge. For a moment he wondered if he would have, wondered at what point he would have stopped. Then he looked back to where Jo was stood, fear and worry etched on her face and he realized in one epiphany-like moment how much he needed her. He held her eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Then he took one last look at the man on the ground and he turned his back on Victor Gaunt.

Don Flack sauntered up to the bulky man accompanied by the local deputy named Quick. "Don Flack, pleased to meet yah!" Victor Gaunt peered up at them bleary-eyed. "Victor Gaunt, you're under arrest for the murder of Justin Myers, the murder of a Federal agent, kidnapping of a crime scene investigator, abduction of a minor, assault, aggravated assault, assault with a deadly weapon ..." Victor's head dropped back to the ground as Don folded his arms with a self-satisfied air and continued with his list. "... the sale and shipment of illegal weapons, grand theft auto ..."

Mac paused on hearing the latter and looked at Jo who looked doubtful. He turned back to Don with a raised eyebrow. Don glanced down at Victor for a second and then grinned smugly at Mac. "He ain't denying it!"

.


	28. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

The bar was crowded as Don danced his way across to a table by the window followed by Adam, multiple mugs of beer clenched firmly in their hands. They plonked the glasses down on the table and slid into their seats. The nine men reached forward and pulled a glass towards them. They waited on Don as they raised their glasses to their visitors. "To a job well done and to Harry and Steve. Welcome to New York!" They all echoed his words and clinked glasses and drank. "We're going to have a blast!" He winked.

Harry raised his glass to them and Steve nodded. "Well, it's great to meet the rest of you." They smiled at Sheldon, Danny, Sid and Adam. "We've heard all about you."

"All good, I hope?" asked Sid.

Harry looked doubtful for a minute. "Well Mac did say something about not mentioning scalpels and sulphuric acid." Sid rolled his eyes and the others laughed.

"So where are you going to take them?" asked Wright who seemed a totally different man dressed in jeans and a Giants sweatshirt. "The Empire State building? Times Square? Lady Liberty? " A thought struck him "The Intrepid?"

Don shook his head. "Nah we're going to do all the important places first."

Wright looked at him in surprise. Don grinned. "The Irish bars!"

Wong laughed. "They are not going to know what's hit them when you turn up."

Don's grin widened. "Well, gentlemen you are welcome to join us. After all I gotta introduce everyone to the FBI's finest, Right and Wrong, I mean White and Wong … I mean ..."

The two men shook their heads in mock despair and Wong leaned forward. "Hey you think that's bad? You should meet our colleagues from the financial division"

Don rubbed his hands in glee. "Better than Ben and Jerry?"

Wong nodded. "Way better." He paused for effect. "Alex Hershey and Trudy Barr!"

"No way!" Adam laughed. Even Sheldon cracked a smile as Sid chortled into his beer.

Danny put in his two pennies worth. "Apparently over in vice, there's a guy called Dumis. We'll have to get him to work for Mac ..." The others looked blank for a moment.

"Then he could be called Taylor's Dumis! Oh come on! Tailor's dummy! That's funny!"

The groans were audible. Harry spoke up. "Speaking of your erstwhile leader, where is he?"

A ghost of a smile flitted across Don's lips. "Oh don't worry, we'll catch up with him later. He's … er … caught up with a little … family business."

.

Jo sipped at her wine as she peered around the edge of the kitchen door. The most delicious smells emanated from the oven and the kitchen counter was already full of food. Her stomach was rumbling as she felt a presence behind her shoulder. "Do you think I ought to go rescue him?" she asked.

Alice laughed, her corkscrew curls bouncing prettily around her face as she wiped flour from her hands. "Hell no. He's faced down hardened criminals, gangsters, terrorists and all kinds of desperados. I'm sure he can he can manage two teenage girls."

They peered across the room where Mac was sat in a large armchair with Stacy at his side. She hadn't left Mac's side since her father's funeral earlier that afternoon. She was now clinging to his arm with one hand while the other fingered a gold wedding band on a chain around her neck that Mac had given her just after the ceremony. Jo found it hard to imagine how Stacy had managed to squeeze into the chair beside him. She wondered if they would need FDNY to break the chair apart to get them out. At his feet Ellie was perched on a large footstool, her knees pulled up and her feet tucked on the edge of Mac's chair firmly penning him in. She had a magazine in her hand and she was chewing on the end of a pencil. She gave the impression of a journalist in the middle of a probing interview. She scribbled something down and then spoke to Mac. Jo giggled at his valiant attempt to hide his horror but she could see his Adam's Apple bob up and down as he swallowed nervously.

"What are they doing anyway?" asked Alice.

Jo shrugged as she sipped at the wine. "Not sure. Some kind of quiz."

Alice nodded knowledgeably as she peered at the periodical in Ellie's hands. "Oh! Yes! TeenMag's relationship quiz. I think it's on are you and your partner ready for sex?" Jo choked. Alice giggled. "But I'm guessing it's a little too late for that?" she teased.

"Alice!" Jo hissed, trying to sound indignant but the colour on her cheeks gave the game away. She glanced at Alice who was looking her intently with a knowing little smirk on her lips. Jo looked away in an attempt to hide her embarrassment and glanced over at Mac. He must have sensed her gaze as he looked back at her. He pulled a comical face and mouthed the word 'help'. She giggled but made no move to help him out. He pouted.

Alice nudged her. "He'd make a great father," she whispered.

Jo smiled at hearing her own words quoted back at her. She nodded.

Alice nudged her again. "He'd make a great husband."

"Alice!" Jo glared at her but her lips were still smiling.

Alice raised her hands innocently and wandered over to peer in the oven. Jo looked into the living room. Mac said something. Ellie burst into giggles and even Stacy smiled laying her head on his shoulder. She watched him laugh and put his arm around Stacy. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of the three of them. He looked back at her and the coy smile reappeared but his eyes said so much more.

"You know his place has lovely big rooms. Perfect for four!"

"ALICE!"

**THE END **

**A/N : Thank you all for reading, following, favouriting and reviewing. Hope you all enjoyed it.**


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